


Life's Sweetest Reward

by xdarlingnickyx (Sonny)



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: AmputeeJensen, Fingerfucking, First Time, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/xdarlingnickyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oil & Water? Or Peanut Butter & Jelly? When Reserves Master Chief Petty Officer Jensen R. Ackles and Chief Petty Officer Jared T. Padalecki want the same job on a DeMorgan Charters cruise ship, The Contessa, will they be one another's rival...or will they forget all else to simply fall in love?</p><p><b>**</b>posted w/Artist's graphics</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Submission to the SPN Meant to Be challenge of May 2014 : This is a J2 "romance" based off of a Harlequin SuperRomance novel, with this particular summary...
> 
>  **25\. Her Favorite Rival =** A new meaning for office politics...Audrey Mathews has worked hard to get here. Now she's up for a promotion and nothing will stand in her way—including Zach Black. He's hot, smart and the competition. When they're assigned to the same project, she's shocked at how much she actually likes about him…and how much she misjudged him. Before long Audrey is seriously falling for Zach—and indulging in an affair that's against company policy. And the stakes rise when it's clear only one of them can get ahead. So where do they draw the line between competition and love? Especially when she doesn't want to lose either the promotion or the guy….
> 
> * **Note :** _lyric, shamelessly stolen from 'The Love Boat Theme' writ. by Charles Fox & Paul Williams as sung by Jack Jones_

**MEET YOUR CREW ON THE CONTESSA :**  


**[LINK TO ALL ART](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/101023.html) by inanna-maat **

  


Jensen was not going to allow the rumor he had heard last week weigh heavy on his mind.

Danneel and Genevieve had only been gossiping amongst themselves, and he had foolishly considered listening, hiding behind an open doorway. Trouble was that tried-and-true anecdote of people who overhear conversations about themselves never hearing anything good proved to be all too real. But he had been curious and it had bit him right in the ass.

That dream-job he had been coveting since he had known about the massive merger about to happen with his employers was soon to become a two person race. A two man race, to be exact.

Jensen had some idea the job would be a shoo-in. First Mate Thomas Welling would slip into the Captain's role of the new cruise line, "The Contessa", while the retiring captain would exit with a grand bonus package and a comfortable pension. Jensen would ease gradually up the ranks, in typical DeMorgan Enterprises crew member fashion, right into the First Mate slot, and everything would be smooth sailing, to borrow a bad pun.

Today, this rumored piece of news didn't sit well with him.

Maybe because, just this once, it had actually appeared as if Reserves Chief Petty Officer Jared T. Padalecki was actually riding along Jensen's coattails, since being hired for civilian duty at the same charter excursion company six months prior.

Jensen had only been hearing second-hand information about this young "maverick" of the Atlantic seas, but they had yet to meet face-to-face, shake mano-ah-mano, or even exchange more words than just a quick greeting.

And by no fault of his own, today - this mid-morning - would be the very day that first meeting would take place.

It hadn't helped much once Jensen had been startled awake, from a dead sleep with a 4am alert message, sent by text and voicemail to his on-call work phone, that he would stagger up to "acting" captain of the crew for the executive chartered yacht, "The Sea Swept"; the boat was mainly used to ferry customers - business associates, clients and top executives - from the mainland to a privately owned island where DeMorgan Charters' headquarters was stationed. An old airfield on the island housed all the antiquated hangers that had been converted into working executive and business offices, where many, if not all, of the employees had their own offices, or at the very least a personal desk and/or lockers, using the buildings as a "hub" for their job 24/7, almost non-stop in rotated schedules.

Jensen had immediately started managing the crew of The Sea Swept, because the real captain had been irrevocably detained--to be truthful, he would not be arriving for active duty this morning. The evening charter he had captained mere hours ago had run later than typical--a sailing yacht chartered by a tycoon's twin sons had suddenly turned into an unfortunate party cruise. The captain had not only just gotten into the docks, close to 3am, but had climbed into bed a mere half-hour ago himself, when the schedule had to be instantly shifted to prevent a deadly accident from happening had Jensen not taken the new duty put on his shoulders.

Only the terminal had known of Officer Jensen R. Ackles consistent ability to conform and rearrange his life in order to protect, and fully serve, the ungrateful customers of DeMorgan Charters. No one had known of his liking of these types of work environments, unforeseen events occurring where he had to comply with no backtalk or recourse, then become willing to accept immediate change, along with a role of high authority with a crew that would give him respect and adhere to his methods. Jensen had worked for DeMorgan for nearly five years as a "civilian", while still keeping active in his US Coast Guard duty in the Reserves, of the 8th District.

At the same time of receiving the news of his change of work status, a new crew roster for The Sea Swept had been emailed, where it was discovered that it would only be he and his First Mate, a 2nd-in-command-cum-navigator, on the bridge, at the helm by his side. The rest of the upper deck staff would be of service to the charter yacht's passengers--stewards, engineers and deckhands. Jensen had been sure it wouldn't be a massive failure from the get-go, since he could now be captain, instead of First Mate, where he had many times felt his expertise was wasted. He wouldn't have to find things to do to keep himself busy, which meant he had to spend less time on the upper and lower decks where passengers roamed; he could safely lock himself in the wheelhouse and keep his butt glued to the Captain's seat behind the steering, always in radio contact with the terminal on the island as he approached DeMorgan's island, Crescent Cay.

Between 5am and 6:30am, Jensen had been properly stewing in the rumor-mill as he worked with the yacht's maintenance crew below decks. His First Mate, Officer Michael S. Speaker, had kept a post on the bridge while they had gone through a thorough checklist before setting sail, keeping in constant verbal touch by two-way hand-held radios; this was to not only make sure The Sea Swept's engines would hold-out, but that the gas tanks remained operational. But, also, that she would remain sparkling and utterly spotless for the passengers about to board; one had to cater to a comfortability level that overextended a customers simple wishes. At 6:45am, a new computer printout of an updated passenger list had been sent; the old copy had too many "slashes" written in from the night before. Of the new-and-improved roster, this time there was an added sheer-nightmare-of-a-name staring right at Jensen...

...Chief Petty Officer Jared T. Padalecki...

Just for shits-and-giggles, on the old passenger list hanging off the hook on the wall, clipped to a clipboard, Jensen had taken a Sharpie marker in hand to draw a stick figure "sad face". All of his crew members, having gotten to know separately both Jensen and Jared, had given light-hearted chuckles imagining this would simply be the brewing of something worthy of being chattered about. Jensen had really wanted to sketch out a fancy "deadly poison" skull-and-cross bones, but hadn't wanted to cause a single person to spread wasteful toxic gossip, as if he actively hated-on a fellow shipmate.

What had been niggling at Jensen was...why hadn't they put Padalecki on his crew? Why was he simply a passenger on the yacht? What was so much better about the young man that he couldn't crew when they were already short staffed and Jensen had dropped everything to take over command? And how the hell had Chief Petty Officer Padaelcki gotten to know the top cat of DeMorgan's newly acquired corporation?

Right where the name of the head CEO of Speight & Townsend Industries should have been on the old list was where Padalecki's name had been scribbled. Richard Speight Jr. was not only the son of the man who had started Speight & Townsend Industries, but also the grandson of both its co-founders. For the better part of fourteen months, DeMorgan Enterprises and Speight & Townsend Industries had been involved in a huge global merger. The new cruise line, "The Contessa", was the newly merged company's first endeavor together.

And, furthermore...why the fuck did this youngblood yeoman think he could climb over all the other staff members between them to get to this opening First Mate's position?

Whom did Padalecki know, and why call in so many favors to climb so high, so fast?

Everyone at DeMorgan knew how hard Jensen had worked, and had kept on working so it would become a natural progression to an ultimate dream-job.

Every. One.

Well...everyone but Padalecki.

  


It was tough to explain why all morning long Jared had felt the sharp tingles over his nape to crawl down the slope of his spine. Or why his ears felt like they were burning, and every tiny hair on his body stood on end.

He wouldn't understand completely until he had heard the dreaded name of his unwanted nemesis at work, Reserves Master Chief Petty Officer, Jensen R. Ackles.

The "Iceman" as Jared had been hearing for a rumored dub of the full name. He had often wondered if this moniker actually fit, or if it was simply idle gossip. He had served in enough military situations where people gained notoriety and sucked up nicknames like they were a new hobby. To this day, even though he had served two tours in the Army in over three years, he still couldn't remember his "handle", and possibly it was because he had attempted to further himself away from those years of his life the second he joined the US Coast Guard. The Army had merely been a means to an end; the Coast Guard was becoming his passion in life.

He had yet to meet his superior, in the past six months of civilian employment outside of his Reserves duty. The Great and Powerful Oz, as Jared had come to claim him, inside his head. Somehow, Jared hadn't imagined he would be this nervous. The guy was a consummate professional. A fellow officer of the US Coast Guard. They should have a lot in common; they should have too much to talk about. They could've become the best of friends, but maybe not-so-close, but still...comrades-in-arms. Jared had good relationships with his superior officers, in and out of his military duty.

For years, Jared had hated the way his older brother, Jeffrey, tended to utilize every single favor he had attained in his stint in the Army. He had wanted to make his little brother's rise to the top tier a bit smoother, but Jared only saw it as digging a deeper hole that he could never come out of. People were bound to get the wrong impressions about him, and Jeffrey would be safe from ridicule and harm, while Jared would be the one suffering in someone else's name, by someone else's doing, yet again.

Jared relished hard work--hell, he lived for the ego boost every effort brought to him. It hadn't been an easy road to live up to the past Padalecki names, in both father and older brother, but he had tried to make a new path for only himself. And, still, even when he'd left the Army to join the Coast Guard training at the Academy, he couldn't shake their ghosts as people from the past came into Jared's present to aide his survival, every good intention to secure his future. He had appreciated the variety of "leg-ups", but he had wanted to do this all by himself, for his own right to be proud of his success.

But, when Jared had thought he was able to move on his own, things had started to happen in real life to throw him curve balls he had to learn to swing at. So, yeah, he may have used a little clout from Jeffrey to start his job at DeMorgan Enterprises, but his fast rise to popularity and reputation was all his own doing.

Lucky for Jared that Richard Speight, Jr. was actually a retired Master Sergeant, having served alongside his brother overseas for several tours of duty. With that type of "in", Jared hadn't had to have one of those awkward interviews; he simply started working, crewing for the smaller chartered yachts when he wasn't doing Reserves duty, rising from lowly Petty Officer gaining higher ranks as the years went by. It was quickly becoming one of the best jobs to have while still in the Coast Guard, and planning on making it to Senior Chief in the next two months.

The second Jared had become an employee of DeMorgan he had told Jeffrey that this was when calling in for favors would end; the next steps to become a top employee at this executive charter business was going to be by Jared's own hands. Little had Jared known that being the little brother to Mr. Speight's old Army buddy would make him turn into instant family, where he would gain another "big brother" who would look out for him. Jared hadn't minded, but today...of all days, it seemed like it was about to foul up his karma.

As those strange tingles had coursed through him, Jared had felt several pairs of stormy, quietly fuming eyes piercing the back of his head.

One thing Mr. Speight refused to do was to cowtie to anyone's feelings, especially if they were blood-related or married to him. He didn't care much about brandying his newest, most favorite mistress around or that his grumbling, sycophant wife-of-convenience tagged along, hoping to catch every scrap of emotion leftover for her to savor. He hadn't even let it be disproved that he had been intimately dipping into a third intimacy with a direct employee of his own, in the form of his personal assistant, a young man by the name of Matthew Cohen. Forever to be known as "Mr. Cohen" to Jared.

All three pairs of eyes shot daggers at Jared, making him more unneeded, silent enemies, where he hadn't been at fault.

The minute Jared had been picked up in the bullet-proof, heavy-duty terrain, charcoal black SUV, Mr. Speight had prattled on with good humored war stories, depicting a different side to Jeffrey Padalecki that Jared had known secretly existed away from their tyrannical father's eyes, Brigadier General Gerald T. Padalecki. The brothers simply called him, The Brigadier, because he would never wash away those military duties, carrying them home, using them to maturate his two boys into adulthood.

Retired now, going on twelve years, give or take those flubbed years where The Brigadier had gone into retirement, then could barely survive in civilian life, almost pleading to be put into another tour, smaller, but time-consuming. That had been the moment of truth, a test to the worth of The Brigadier's two male offspring, coming closer than ever as family, when sons had to father their patriarch. In that last Army tour, The Brigadier had gone down with the worst viral ailment in decades, returning home, lethargic, feverish and in-and-out of consciousness, soon to be diagnosed with a rare cancer of the blood. Years of choosing to booze and selfishly carouse had torn down those inner organs to the point where they had extremely weakened to be incapable of sustaining life, unless some outside efforts where made to replace those lost, woebegone years in self-torture.

Immediately, Jared had left the Army, moving in to a place near to the US Coast Guard Academy in Connecticut, prepared to seek a permanency for duty at home. The Brigadier and Jeffrey had moved out of the Padalecki homestead in Texas to head toward the East Coast, as well. There were hopes that the VA hospital would help with those radical, experimental treatments meant to help combat the deadly, attacking viral infection head-on. This decision had forced Jeffrey to retire, permanently, to become The Brigadier's sole caregiver, while baby brother would become the success of the Padalecki family, bringing both better wealth and proper insurance coverage.

The only reason Jared considered the First Mate position on The Contessa was for extra job security and a much-more stable form of health insurance, so he could take over paying for The Brigadier's care and well-being. Thankfully, there had been a sudden reprieve into remission, several months into Jared's hire at DeMorgan, but still ancillary bills needed paying, and creditors and money-lenders had been past due, having been skipped or extended to ensure they had the ready cash to help the survival of The Brigadier.

He had always been a good son to an ungrateful parent, sacrificing much of his young life in order to keep safe and sane in an environment created by another's warped vision of family. It had only been the Padalecki men since Jared had been 9yrs old. The Padalecki women, mother and 4yr old daughter, Megan, had left The Brigadier's control. Mrs. Padalecki could no longer withstand the lonely life of a military spouse, all the sniveling and sniping, old friends gossiping about her husband's infidelities, while he went about drinking and sleeping with other women, younger women who liked to be with an older, dominating male. She had known what would happen should he take another tour of duty, and he hadn't cared one iota about what he left behind, nor what he had brought back with him. The Army had always been his first mistress; Mrs. Padalecki had simply been a trophy wife, set-up to make it appear like The Brigadier was every bit the family man the military loves to promote.

When she couldn't take another trip...another bottle to appease the dead emotions or another woman's hands on her husband...she had gone about packing she and her younger childrens' suitcases, planning on taking Jared and Megan back to her parents' home. Jeffrey had already seen a Army recruiter, happy to go to boot-camp at 17, instead of staying to bear alongside his younger siblings, or excuse his mother's disengaging from her marriage. But, The Brigadier had been sneakier, having expected his wife to hand him down an ultimatum, or just leaving him to let him pick up her scattered pieces of the life he helped build with her. So, he had forced her hand, made her choose: she could stay, and tough the hard road ahead, or, she could leave. But, if she left, she could only take one child with her, the one he had doubts was actually his blood relation anyway. Maybe Mrs. Padalecki had an affair, maybe just a simple forgetful one-night-stand that sprouted a child, just so she could feel "something" again. She had chosen to leave, taking her daughter with her, and she never called, never wrote, never even returned to see how her sons were doing, as she cared naught for the bastard of a wrathful man she had once loved.

Jared hadn't known the truth until The Brigadier had been stricken down, sweating profusely, teary-eyed and belligerently repentant for the evil he had stirred and the harmful discourse he had caused for an innocent wife and sweet, loving mother who had only chosen the wrong man to give her whole heart, and life, to. Jared had hated his father for making him think for a millisecond of time that it mattered squat that his baby sister could have only been a half-sibling; they had been close, close in age and close in their feelings enough to form a searing bond that was severely ripped apart the second that car had pulled out of the driveway.

Knowing what he knew, at this point, Jared no longer cared who cheated first, or had kept on cheating and broken hearts. He had learned he still held an unspeakable love for his mother and sister, one that had never truly gone away, even if The Brigadier couldn't forgive or forget. There was a second reason for moving east, and it had everything to do with getting back into contact with the Padalecki women, no matter how much The Brigadier grumbled or Jeffrey grew unpleasantly silent and morose; Jared was antsy to reach out to them once again, and bring mother and child back into his life, if his father and brother wanted nothing to do with them

So...Jared had listened to Mr. Speight drone on and on, smiling and deeply chuckling, here and there, where the stories counted, and then out came the mention of Ackles.

Officer Ackles would be captaining The Sea Swept, the charter yacht about to take its passengers to the private island owned by DeMorgan Enterprises, where the main DeMorgan headquarters was housed. Once on dry land, Jared would split from his fellow boat-riders, and off to the old hanger where the charter company's offices were kept; he actually had an office, a small one, but at least he had a name plaque on the door, so it was HIS.

Mr. Speight's entourage would take a DeMorgan company jet back to a different town or state on the mainland, somewhere other than North Carolina, he suspected. Not everyone in the three limo SUVs would be joining Jared on-board The Sea Swept. Two were being excluded as Mr. Speight's mistress had terrible motion sickness on water and Mr. Speight still liked pampering her, so they would catch a helicopter, on the helipad that was near the docks, then fly to the island to rejoin the entourage on that same jet, taking them all home or to work. All of this was on DeMorgan's dime. Not all of the entourage could seat in the small helicopter, and that had been intentional, so the rest--the disgruntled wife and Mr. Cohen--had to tag-along with Jared. Poor things...but Jared held no pity for either of them; he still kind of liked Mr. Speight, though, just because of the guy's continual give-a-rat's-ass attitude in life.

Jared was confused by all the fussing and becoming so pissy. They were about get a free ride on a YACHT, of all things, where they wouldn't be spied-on by their Boss, Mr. Speight. They would be pampered and coddled like they were visiting royalty, which they were, while this merger was continually on-going. Maybe Mr. Cohen was a bit snippier and snarkier when "Daddy" wasn't around, so the Speight entourage simmered to a low boil, in case Mr. Cohen was a tattle-tale or was some kind of whip-wielder when his own boss wasn't in sight.

Who knew, but Jared was almost looking forward to finding a quiet spot of his own, where he could relax and get calm for the two-hour ride before all hell broke loose, and he had to start acting like an adult again.

First, he had to kill these nerves settling into his belly at the aspect of meeting "Iceman" Ackles, face-to-face, finally able to see what this hype was about, all this talk about them being natural-born enemies.

And second, he had to get over that instant jolt of shock he had when he learned of that lesser-known fact he was now trying to go for the same job as Officer Ackles, who had thought for the longest time that the employment had no rivalry.

Just a bit of a bump in the road, nothing Jared couldn't smooth over before it could get out of control.

 

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Jared wished he had been better prepared once he had gained sight of Captain Ackles.

Little did he realize exactly what kind of breathtaking, beautiful vision he'd behold; the man was an absolute stunner in person.

Dressed in the casual uniform, specifically designed for The Sea Swept's crew, he wore dark dress slacks, probably dark-blue Khakis, and a pale blue long-sleeved polo--the two buttons undone at the top to show a V of bare skin. So much pale flesh, untouched by sunlight, freckling in strawberry dots, while hair hued between ash-blond and a reddish-tinged blond, depending on how directly, intensely, the sun's rays shone down. Not only was there a jaunty Captain visor cap on the shorn head of hair, but UV-protected lens covered the eyes, giving Ackles an authoritative appearance that bordered coldness and a brief temptation of doling out precise rules to keep all passengers, and crew, in line.

Upon first sight, no one would dispute the reign of this captain, and they would know how safely they would sail within his hold, a man who looked as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, as if no heart beat deep within. A mechanical robot made of real flesh sworn to uphold and protect, to serve.

Jared had been the very last to board, right after Mr. Cohen. The piles and stacks of luggage needed to be brought on, following the line of passengers, taking up the last few minutes. First Mate Speaker, Mr. Cohen and Jared had developed a train of arms to load the cases and bags, using the short ramp connected to the back of the yacht to the floating dock--there was a rope-railing on one side to aide in crossing over. Once all items, and the last of the passengers, were aboard...Captain Ackles finally returned to pull up anchor and untie the thick rope keeping the boat from veering away from the docks. He would be the last to come on board, he and his First Mate snapping in the ramp into place at the back-end.

While Mr. Cohen had been boarding, he and First Mate Speaker doing an awkward "dance" of manly men trying to look as if neither needed, or offered, help to the other, Jared had his old Army duffel arced on his back, over left shoulder. Captain Ackles stood ram-rod stiff dockside, at military parade rest, mirrored aviator shades staring dead-on into Jared's face, and Jared assumed his bag would be taken, while he crossed the ramp ahead.

Not the case. The dark green bag slumped exactly where Jared dropped it, right at the feet of Captain Ackles—which were a comfortable tan-suede pair of sport deck shoes.

Everyone watched the duffel bend, then roll forward, no one bothering to stop the downfall, even if it hit water.

Jared spun back, after grabbing for the dangling rope-railing, to catch sight of the major faux pas he had just committed.

Well...shit...

Why hadn't someone made him aware that Master Chief Petty Officer Jensen R. Ackles was without a limb--a below-the-elbow, or bte, amputee--on the right side of his perfect muscular body?

Holy Christ! Talk about a flubbed first impression.

At least now Jensen had a very good reason to hate Officer Padalecki.

Except...he couldn't help recalling how his gut clenched, and his next breath had caught, when the extremely tall, dark-haired and gorgeous specimen of male flesh followed that last of the line to board The Sea Swept. Then he had stood toe-to-toe, mentally sighing at the sharply focused eyes peering down at him. It had been too long since he had to tip his head back to look at another man; he liked taller men, even when they made him feel a little more vulnerable than usual.

He had almost revealed his disfigurement upon sight, but he had been too mesmerized by pretty eyes and a warm, friendly smirking grin.

Jensen's instant stillness wasn't because of being stoic, or being a consummate professional about work ethics. No, for the first time, in much too long--since the early days of his stints in the Army--he had been instantly bowled over by an attractive man. Someone who knew he could have a brotherhood, or a kinship, with, but had to keep at a relative distance.

This was only one more reason to stay back, to not care.

If he allowed his guard to drop, like before, he could not only have his heart trampled, but, in the process, lose the very end-goal he had been trying to achieve since taking employment with DeMorgan. This First Mate position for The Contessa brand was the final step to an even bigger dream job of being captain of his own vessel; a cruise ship was just a mere formality he could deal with.

Thank god the duffel had been retrieved by Mike, scrambling to cover-up the unfortunate mistake. Padalecki had boarded behind, and then Jensen brought up the rear.

They would soon set sail toward the private island, off the shores of North Carolina, and Jensen could happily forget about Officer Padalecki, re-raising those old barriers with stronger steel.

Jensen knew now that he had to stay one step ahead at all times, and not let a thing that this subordinate officer would do, or say, sway him to his side. Not even if it was laced within a deep, heart-felt apology.

Jared had quietly excused himself from the swanky, sparsely-filled dining area, his brunch half-eaten because he could no longer bear to hear one more...

"...it's a damn shame, really..."

"...I know, such an extremely attractive man..."

"...he's the best at what he does, though, but, one never knows, you know..."

"...I wonder if his girlfriend loved him before, or after..."

A fellow shipman...a fellow brother of the US Coast Guard was under verbal fire, wickedly gossiped about when any one of them knew no more about him than Jared did. As if having no right hand made him less of, or somehow disfigured to the point of never looking attractive ever again.

Jared had never heard one word about a wife, a fiancée or even a girlfriend; to his way of thinking most dedicated military workers tended to avoid personal entanglements, some just having friends or acquaintances on the side who fulfilled their needs. But he wasn't sure Captain Ackles would have gone even that far. Another employee, a female air hostess by the name of Danneel Harris, was said to be living with him, but Jared had never seen anything romantic surface. Plus, he had always assumed the rumors were more true about Ms. Harris' intimacy was all for JD Morgan, DeMorgan's reigning CEO.

He had wiped the cloth napkin over his mouth, expelled a soft word or two, pushing back his chair to stand and calmly exit the area; he had been able to find his smile once he spotted some random deckhands on the outer decks, doing work he now wished he could be doing. He found his way to the Bridge, stopping at the wheelhouse, where he knew he could locate Captain Ackles and First Mate Speaker.

Jared knocked on the glass, catching both pairs of eyes looking over at him, after glancing down at the spread-out map of the Atlantic seaboard. Captain Ackles swiveled away, heading back to the empty seat, behind the steering column as First Mate Speaker moved to unlock and open the door.

"Officer Padalecki...what can we do for you?"

"...put me to work."

First Mate Speaker let his jaw go slack in shock. "uh..." He glanced down at his watch, then peeked at Captain Ackles. "We're already underway and...though we're working with a thinned-out crew, everything is all right for now."

"Look..." Jared put up both palms. "I don't care where, I can't be in amongst the rest of the passengers--if you get my meaning." He smiled once he noticed the First Mate had understood completely. "I'll even serve in the kitchen, washing dishes or scrubbing pots...mop the floor...I'm not real picky."

"It's not up to me...this is Captain Ackles' call--but I do have some empty spots for you, if you don't mind some fast, but heavy work."

"Anythin', man...I simply can't stand sittin' on my ass, listenin' to all that empty chatter, about nothin' in general. I did hear that you where short of staff, so I thought I'd take a slim chance I could do somethin' good here." And, sure, maybe Jared could score some extra points with Captain Ackles.

First Mate Speaker nodded his head, his smile easing out. "Stay here. Lemme talk to Jensen...I'm sure he'll accommodate you..."

Jared stood still, near the door, trying to gaze out the massive front window casing, onto the waters approaching. He could faintly hear chatter, a deep, rich voice saying, "--don't care where he goes...jus' not on my bridge--"

First Mate Speaker returned, at the halfway mark, then cleared his throat to speak, "I'll get you a uniform. When I come back, you'll follow me..." He looked Jared's size over. "We'll get you changed, set you up below deck, for now. We may, or may not, need you on upper, but..."

"Understood, sir." Jared had seen the eyes glance at his appearance, as if to gauge for size in clothing.

"Polo shirt and shorts, okay?"

"Yes. Perfect."

First Mate Speaker exited while Jared behaved, starting with staying silent, though, since he was now alone with his unwanted adversary, he felt compelled, at the very least, to clear the air of his minor fuck-up. He wandered over to the massive Atlantic sea-board map laid out, just looking over every detail--even the Sharpie marker scribbles added; he was listening to the quiet mutterings of the radios around him, of Captain Ackles two-way radio chatter with DeMorgan's main terminal at Crescent Cay. All those typical navigation coordinates warmed his heart as he actually began to locate the exact spots on the displayed map.

Crossing arms behind his back, Jared crept toward the Captain's chair where Officer Ackles sat. He liked the ease and gentle cadence to the steering: the left hand dominant, at 10 o'clock on the wheel, while a now visible, bare and scarred stump rested at a low 5 o'clock spot. The amputation hadn't been any hindrance to Captain Ackles doing as good a job as most would think. But Jared did have to ponder...just how much of a huge difference it would be if Ackles wished to do this exact same thing for DeMorgan's new cruise ship?

He had to imagine that the captain of a larger sea vessel sat back and doled out the calls, while another, possibly someone under the First Mate position, or maybe the First Mate, took over the steering. One surely shouldn't equal the other, and Jared suddenly felt ashamed for thinking less of his fellow officer, when Ackles had been at this civilian job longer than Jared's own six-months. It was very clear Ackles could not only do the work given to him, but he had happily taken over the role of "captain" with no fear or trepidation, and it was obvious the crew working with him wouldn't complain at all.

Jared sensed a shock of admiration, of deep respect, wash over him. He wished to apologize, making amends for more than just his single fuck-up. "Captain Ackles,..."

The dark blond head barely turned to acknowledge Jared's nearness when a quick influx of two waves colliding sent the yacht dipping low before she started rising high in the air, about to crash onto the moving liquid's surface.

There was a section of time where passengers and crew felt the imbalance, before proper control was regained. Instinctively, Jared moved to perch at the back of the Captain's chair, reaching around the padding sides to clutch at the wide, stocky frame, helping to keep a sound footing--or in this case, a seating--to continue steering. He hadn't imagined the chair would have come with an added lap-belt, which had been strapped across Ackles' waist prior to taking the helm.

Jared felt the shock of intense heat through the Polo shirt, feeling his other senses being pelted unfairly as he was now directly behind Captain Ackles. Even with the chair bolted into a two-inch high platform, Jared's height was still taller than the back padding, almost as if he could rest his chin atop the shorn blond hair. For an "Iceman", the body radiating a comforting heat, like a furnace. There had been an initial raw, sea-breeze scent, mixed with male sweat with being blended into dampness from water sprays. The longer Jared stood there, patient and unmoving, the more he could smell the odors of having been freshly showered, shaved and thoroughly shampooed. He liked the mixtures, the blends heady and familiar to the nostrils.

Before he realized it, arms began to shake off his touch, but Jared didn't budge from his standing position. He really should not be here, in this exact spot, even if he would only be a very small distraction. He understood there was too much risk of missing the subtleties of piloting a boat like this in open waters when there was more than just one life in the balance, one mishap could turn into a bigger trauma or tragedy. He knew and understood his proper place on this boat, and it wasn't right here. His need to apologize was wavering; it felt moot at this point, no matter if they were alone or not. Captain Ackles was intimidating in such a quiet, undemanding manner, and Jared couldn't afford another fuck-up.

Just when the waves, and the radio chatter, calmed, First Mate Speaker returned to the Bridge, holding a crewman's uniform. "Follow me, Officer Padalecki. I have a place where you can change, then I'll take you below deck."

Jared backed away from the chair, stepping deftly toward his superior officer. "Thank you, sir--" Then he gave a small nod to Ackles. "Captain..." He said no other words as he trailed behind the retreating form. "--I appreciate this--you have no idea." He was about to quicken his steps, to catch up, but a clip board on the wall caught his interest. He paused simply because he noticed the drawn *sadface*, a smirk lifting one end of his lips. But he lost the momentum to hilarity once he recognized his full name on the old passenger roster.

Damn...

Though a bit hurt, awkwardly heartbroken, Jared instantly realized some dumb, lame apology wouldn't suffice, or break through to Captain Ackles. This would have to start as a mature relationship from the get-go. No tom foolery. No simple means to wipe the slate clean to begin again. Jared even mentally erased his back-up plan where he knew he could subtly seduce another man into rethinking words or actions, only to become his good friend. None of that would work here.

As he exited the Bridge, Jared still sensed those interesting tingles. This time they became more centered, deep within his gut, and some scattered upward toward his quickening heart.

Jensen Ackles was about to change him, in some monumental way, and Jared wouldn't be able to stop, or slow down, the process.

Jensen hadn't wanted to appear eager, or too interested, in where Padalecki had been placed; nor did he care what he was doing in the interim. So, instead of allowing curiosity to eat away at him, he opened up a dialogue with Mike.

"Passengers okay?"

"Doin' fine." First Mate Speaker was now at the helm, while Jensen was standing at the map, looking out into the deep blue waters, the white caps entrancing both of them into some semblance of ease for the monotony. "Our usual batch, ya know. Hoity-toity types, with noses up an' poles shoved in their asses."

Jensen released a snortle, then a genuine laugh, as he let his left fingers clasp his right biceps, a typical pose he had adapted where he could cross arms over his chest, but hide his missing limb from plain sight. The stump itched something fierce, a clear sign he was feeling self-conscious about something deep inside. Usually his confidence held stronger, making him know he could do the work one-handed--and that wasn't a boast of pride. No, what was happening was now that he wasn't around someone he was just getting to know, his obvious handicap made him question himself, his life, his duty, and his very reason for being here, alive and well. He would spend all that time trying to impress and "give a good show" like some trained monkey, saying, "hey, look what I can do! One hand only!", or else he'd sicken or shock a complete stranger.

All he was left with was a weird sense of embarrassment, like he was some kind of asshole or a jerk for showing off. It was difficult to be reminded with youngbloods like Padalecki that some would give him one single look and find him...lacking. He wished he could wipe away these moments; they seemed childish, if not a little self-effacing. But, the longer he refused to adapt to his new world--going on three years now since his traumatic event--the more the truth would rise to the surface, old doubts chewing deep, festering wounds inside his belly.

"It gets even better when you don't have to face 'em every 10 minutes."

"I know. It's why I sympathized with Officer Padalecki so quickly. That new company we're mergin' with has some doozy employees. Not to mention...Mrs. Speight is a--well, you know, so I won't spread it aroun'. I can empathize with those workers, though. Imagine, going in every day, and being scared pissless that you won't have a job the next mornin'."

Jensen furrowed his brow, turning a little from the map and windshield. "I had some idea this was a straight-up, no-chaser merger. You're making it sound as if this is some kind of odd 'liquidation', or a mean-spirited buy-out of Speight & Townsend."

There was a soft shrug of one shoulder. "It's a weird business venture of some sort. An' DeMorgan seems to be gainin' all of those assets."

"What?" Jensen was a bit stunned by this information. "Like, I thought The Contessa was a one-off. The Speight-Townsends just never knew how to run an old cruise ship they'd inherited."

Mike shook his head slowly, resting his elbows on the middle bar of the wheel. "The Townsend family is older money than Speight's. From shipping...boat building...their own smaller charter company...They bought these fleet of ships, thinking they could budget cheap renovations--do simple updates to make things livable for shorter cruises within only a few days, but their gran'heir--Speight, Jr--he tanked every single brand under their name. The Contessa was their first, and largest."

"There's more than one defunct ship?"

"I hear the fleet has, like, at least eight...maybe less. And, they even have Master Builders still under contract, sketching out plans for future brands an' shit..."

“How the hell do you hear all this?”Jensen shook his head in shock and confusion. "I'm just now finding out of my rival for the First Mate job when Tommy upgrades his license to Captain."

"hehe..." Mike chuckled deeply, throwing hands up in his own defense. "It pays to be a lowly peon, Jen. Plus, you do know I'm still datin' Shirlene Price at JD Morgan's office, right? An'...don't spread this aroun', or nothin', but--I'll be poppin' her the question pretty soon."

"REALLY?!" Jensen had known who Mike was seeing, but not that things had gone that far. "You're that serious about her?"

"Can't deny 'true love', man. When it's this good, ya gotta hold on tight...an' never let go." Mike began to stare out the windshield portion in front of him, like he was transfixed. "Guys like me can't be too choosy. I lose a good woman like her, I'll stay married to this job forever."

Jensen understood that single worry; it was something of a fear of his own, especially as a gay man. "mmm... sometimes, I'm glad I don't have that problem."

"It'll happen when you least expect it."

Jensen gave a soft snort, shaking his head to deny it ever would be in the cards for him--love and any type of wedding ceremony. "No, not for me."

Mike gave a hearty laugh, throwing his head back, reaching up for the CB hand-held speaker. "Never...say never, Jen...it's a sure-fire jinx..."

Jensen quietly grumbled, turning his back to show he wished to kill the issue. It was back to navigating, and then he'd retake the wheel when they reached the docking bay.

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Jared never saw another sign of Captain Ackles again. He had kept quiet, and to himself, not even to attempt to weed out more information from The Sea Swept's crew. Most were doing the typical moaning and groaning about these types of jobs with the kinds of passengers they were serving. And when Jared could no longer stand the bitching, he simply took the initiative to find another task to complete or a job to stay occupied. Sure, it had been back-breaking physical labor, certainly when he had some idea he'd be lounging for two hours the whole trip, but he loved work like this that kept his mind off other things, made him feel useful instead of a wretched lay-about.

The First Mate had found him, once they had docked, and along with the stewarding crew and some frivolous deckhands, Jared disembarked preceding the passengers. A skeleton crew would suffice in order to bring the yacht to port, tie her off to anchor and wait out the next scheduled excursion while she was given maintenance and refueled. A DeMorgan Charters van passenger-bus awaited to carry the employees right to headquarters, ahead of time knowing there would be various stops along the way for different buildings on the bus route on DeMorgan grounds; another van passenger-bus would return to pick up the last of the yacht's crew, and her mid-afternoon staff would drop off, as well. This time, her returning captain would be the one Jensen had taken the prior spot of.

Usually, Jensen would have remained, alongside his captain, to work another shift, but today was the first day he would begin a new schedule on The Contessa, as Head Purser. Being a purser on a cruise ship depended on the branding or the company; most of the time, he or she would be the general catch-all dogsbody, who pretty much did everything no one else would do, then picked up the slack when no one was aware. Actually, being Head Purser required Jensen to be in constant contact with all of the cruise ship's staff, and he would work alongside the Cruise Director. Half of his time was spent in an office setting, in the purser's offices, and other times he would meander about the various levels and decks of the ship, many times coinciding with the normal cabin stewards and deckhands who were doing their proper shifts in those same places. Head Purser worked with a small crew of pursers under rank, and many times, if the cruise ship was extremely large, the Head Purser could choose a co-managing purser to help out.

This, by no means, meant Jensen had taken a demotion from his duties. With his military experience, and certainly his gained rank from the US Coast Guard, he was good for any job from First Mate/2nd-in-command and lower. And Jensen truly enjoyed having worked in the purser environment as long as he had, because he did, upon occasion, like the random and interesting stacks of files and paperwork he had to dig through; he was one of those weird employees who took a relaxed and calming view of being an "office drone". He found it a rather Zen-mode of taking a few hours out of a hectic day to recharge his brain and his body. Jensen understood that with each sea vehicle he contracted to work on, he would take on the right role to fit the moment. He was employed in the Sea & Coastal Division of DeMorgan Charters, which simply meant he worked on every charter vessel on the sea or body of water; the "Coastal" portion of that department actually encapsulated more of the ancillary and office employees who did not come out to the water, itself, opting for dry land.

The job of a purser wasn't as drudge-worthy as a TV Show like "The Love Boat" depicted, or as monotonous as it had appeared. They were above cabin stewards and deckhands, and often worked in conjunction with the small collective cruise ship managing staff of Captain, First Mate, and Cruise Director. Head Pursers would deal with cruise ship staff and any type of employee activity, while Cruise Directors looked after passengers and any event or activity, on or off the ship, that would include them. A cruise ship brand tried not to overbook with too many clashing events on board. The Contessa was a small-enough vessel where she could be booked for business and extra-curricular conventions of all types, but no more than three could be booked to contain the chaos. Head Purser and Cruise Director had twice daily meetings with Captain and First Mate.

About a year-and-a-half ago, Jensen had been intrigued by the First Mate's position for cruise ships; First Mate Welling had been kind enough, over the last few cruises they had taken together, to slowly ease Jensen into what a role like this would be like, taking breaks for two-to-three hours to shadow and learn the ropes. It had been intense, compared to a shortened yacht cruise, but Jensen could only prepare to do his best. He certainly had the engineering and business sides down pat, but it was the added heavier responsibility, while taking on the scarier moments where Captain and First Mate were dually culpable.

The one thing that always kept Jensen going through the job was the adrenaline rush; he never knew when that moment would exactly happen, but when it did, he could persevere. He liked every varying role on each vessel, because the staff along with its environment brought change in the rotations. He never worked a single cruise with the exact same crew, every time, one after the other.

The first venture with the new fully-refurbished The Contessa brand was a trial run, of sorts, which was why her first passenger list was littered with VIP DeMorgan clients and their corresponding extended families. When that RSVP list had filled to the end due date, then DeMorgan's own employees could buy up the last of the few remaining boarding tickets. Only a handful took advantage, since it was a VIP-only crowd they would be mingling with, so mostly it was from the executive side of the company. In fact, Jeffrey Dean Morgan--JD Morgan to many--had bought a packet for his eccentric Uncle Brennan, or to many at DeMorgan who knew him as Admiral James-Perry.

This cruise would go from Miami to the Bahamas Islands, which would be a small one-to-two week cruise, round-trip. And it would serve to not only prove the worth of the new cruise ship's potential, but also, work to see if all of the merging staff of the old cruise ship meshed well with the new company they were now under. The Contessa was a bit tinier than DeMorgan's three other brands. She held promise that she would be hearty enough to hold out like her predecessors, but also prove the fact that "bigger" did not mean "better".

Jensen loved this about The Contessa, which was possibly why he had an oddball soft-spot for her; everyone had such low expectations, but still, she was managing to survive through months of re-imagining and redesigning as she sailed under her new company brand, with her old name. Though beautiful in her slimline sleekness, she was like a tug-boat compared to her colossal ship-siblings. Jensen not only wanted this "trial run" to go exceptionally well, but he felt like he and this cruise-ship wannabe had something in common, something to prove to the naysayers. Not to mention, it would be a high honor to be her true First Mate when it was decided which routes she would eventually take as her very own, then finally become her Captain.

Some thought Jensen had a sick psychological connection to the vessels he crewed for. What many didn't comprehend was that if one didn't treat the ship or boat a tad bit like a human life-force, then they were bound to make some major fuck-up in the future. Bringing something majestic and other-worldly, but made by man out into Mother Nature's grip was not only playing Russian Roulette, but seeking out a fool's gold.

To earn respect, one had to give it in full selfless confidence.

Just like Jensen's own relationship with the sea. If he had allowed those nightmarish fears to swallow him whole, when he had been 5yrs old, he would never have discovered the man beneath his skin. And he would be living inside of a passionless life where he could find no solace from the wreckage that had torn his entire family out of his hands.

If at anytime he let fear eat away at him, Jensen knew it would kill him, for sure. Just as his one tussle with a life-or-death experience had taught him.

On the way to his second floor office, Jensen deposited the Grande coffee, and half a cinnamon bun, onto Genevieve's desk. He carried what was left, along with his laptop case, inside the room before he backed out, slowly, sipping at his own doctored Styrofoam cup.

She was milling about at the railing, overlooking the first floor. There was an open ceiling where everyone could see the third and fourth floor offices. The three brands of the cruise lines brought a need for an office staff for each of them, plus the newly acquired one, The Contessa. Genevieve had managed all the brands, and their corresponding staff; she was also, pretty much, like Jensen--even when she didn't work in that particular part of the building, she still knew every level's employee's tasks. She had been hired as only a temporary secretary, now finding herself immersed in an unforgiving, relentless, role in overseeing a majority of the staff in the Sea & Coastal division of DeMorgan Charters.

When Jensen had first started, they had butted heads, mercilessly; she wielded a mighty sword of control for someone of her stature and being a capable, independent woman in a male-dominated business. Then, Jensen had to concede that Genevieve had been right from the start; he had played that stubborn manner of his to the hilt, but she hadn't backed down once. They were too similar beneath their surfaces to not become close, once Jensen had pulled himself down from that pedestal of his, allowing her in; he wasn't even this close to his own sister. He meandered over to where she had foot-planted herself for the last half-hour; her back was turned, her forearm resting on the glass/chrome railing as she chattered, pointing a finger with her co-workers. They all appeared to be mumbling, softly elbowing to giggle like teenage girls over the arrival of somebody below.

The front of every old hanger had a wall of sectioned glass, shaped into a arch. The entire first floor still depicted the massive open-space design where small bi-planes, jets and helicopters used to hold port. There were now cubicled office spaces and small sanctioned couches and comfy chairs to show random waiting areas; a few widescreen monitors were place along those spaces to show a daily and hourly update of departures and arrivals, but to also allow commuters and customers a chance to catch up on every day news and information. DeMorgan had a small venture into a intra-business news program, having its very own TV station somewhere on the mainland, only an affiliate was situated on the island, where a series of staff ran the TV programming round-the-clock by computer boards and uplinks to syndicated channels along the Eastern shore.

When Jensen had situated himself beyond Genevieve and her friends, he leaned on his left forearm, taking a few tentative gulps of coffee, subtly following their finger-pointing with a steady gaze. He was blocked from any eyes looking to find him from below, so it never looked as if he was staring or stalking. But, soon, he had discovered their targets.

"Maverick", as the whispers had doomed him to be--which went quite nicely with his own moniker of "Iceman", if anyone from the "Top Gun" generation could figure out--was being whispered about, a few ogling to their content. The youngblood Petty Officer, Padalecki, strolled in as if oblivious to every female wandering eye, making contact with his handsome Hollywood-Hunk looks.

Jensen was dressed in civvies, having gotten out of The Sea Swept uniform an hour prior, using the facilities on board the yacht to shower and change into his casual dress-mode for work, just cargo pants and a soft white button-down, with sleeves rolled to his elbows--even on his amputated limb. For these moments in the office setting, Jensen wore a kind-of protective mesh sock, of thick, yet breathable fabric, that color-coordinated with whatever shirt he'd chosen for the day. He noticed that Padalecki had been able to do the same, except what had been added was on top of the wet, air-drying hair--a gray wool beanie.

Officer Padalecki was walking alongside DeMorgan pilot, Captain Chad M. Murray, who frequently flew employees, and executives, in his AW-139 from Crescent Cay's small air terminal. They were joking and laughing, teasing one another on their way to the inside coffee shop/deli. Jensen was stunned how many people at DeMorgan already had become all-too familiar with Padalecki; he would've imagined that Murray would've still been introducing him along the way.

Padalecki was a strong hand shaker, even a "hugger"; he reacted like pure sunshine, overly friendly and warm to touch. Jensen heard the hearty laugh from way above, the way the dark head would arc backward and the whole body shifted, and twitched, with hilarity of a shared joke or tease. It was incrementally painful to watch every young female fawn and giggle over him, just like what was being mirrored beside him.

Soon, the tiny posse dispersed, and Genevieve returned with her own coffee mug to drink from; she was quite fond of her handcrafted, and hand-painted, ceramic over-sized mug.

"Why didn't you stop us from makin' goo-goo eyes, Master Chief?" She loved to rib him with his military rank title.

Weakly shrugging, Jensen switched his gaze to look at the dear, sweet face peering up at him, with a smirk on one side of her lips. "I can understand the need--the physical draw with sudden attraction. It's not every day we get a crew member on board that stirs up more than plain ire or drama." He didn't complain because he knew his own addition to the employee roster at DeMorgan had caused an initial commotion, as well.

"Please..." Genevieve rolled her large brown eyes, a soft lisp vocalized. "--just because he's A++ in the 'looks' department, doesn't exclude him from our company's nasty, idle gossip. I swear..." She shook her head, letting her head and eyes drop. "--I should anonymously pen a DeMorgan soap opera. I'd make a quadrillion." Genevieve took a quick sip as her gaze moved back to Jensen.

"Just film a reality show in one of the hangers. I vote for Head Office."

They both knew that place was a hot-bed of intrigue and lusty affairs and intimate romances, especially since many of the executives like JD Morgan, had offices there.

“Oh, god, don't I know it.” Genevieve nodded her head in agreement. "I'm happy Jeffrey Dean allowed me to move here, permanently, where I was directly in contact with staff. That office is a thousand times worse than here. Air & Tech...they come damn close to being second place." She made a complimentary face of discomfort, as if she knew first-hand just how much worse the office had been, not to mention all the people she had known connected to it; one person in particular who rankled the hairs on her neck, nearly, on a daily basis.

Jensen could sense Genevieve's mind wandering toward bad thoughts, especially into a very sensitive space where her troubled heart was involved. "Did Dani call? Did she leave me any messages?"

The head of dark silky hair was nodding as lips moved, "Yup. Her schedule had a major hiccup. She was able to grab a quick nap, but she'll be flying the Paris/New York City route for almost two weeks."

"...shit..." Jensen grumbled, shaking his head at how fucked Danneel was, even when she was in the right-hand pocket of the company's CEO. Trouble was, she was just as willing to do these crazy shifts, like Jensen and Genevieve, which made all of them invaluable to the business, when it warred with trying to live their own lives.

"Don't worry. She was able to get all the chores done she wanted to this morning. The house is clean, and locked up. She remembered to call Dawnie to house-sit, and pick up the mutt from the farm." Genevieve took a deep breath, then a long sip. "She told me she'd bring your rolling carry-on, which--I assume--was the last bit of luggage you needed." She raised a lone eyebrow to question, hoping she'd not mistaken the note he'd left for her on her desk prior to her arrival.

"Yeah...I have my dressage--my Whites and Blues with me, in my office. I had them dry-cleaned over the weekend. There were a few last minute things I needed to put through a wash at 5 this morning."

"God..." Genevieve reached out to sooth a hand down the amputated limb's biceps. "--I heard about that." She shook her head as she squeezed the thick shoulder. "What would they ever do without employees like us?"

Jensen smiled, giving a soft pat to the hand on the slope of his shoulder. "Oh, they'd survive. They'd simply stall boarding times and launches until they had the proper staffing underway."

"But is there enough staff here that could crew with less, and still make the work look flawless?"

"Talkin' 'bout me again?!? I heard the word 'flawless'..."

Both Jensen and Genevieve swiveled to face their friend, Danneel Harris, as she neared them at the railing. Genevieve swiftly gave over her sisterly kiss-hug, squeezing Danneel tight, then willingly handed over her mug, knowing her friend would need as much caffeinated "umph" as they could muster. Jensen patiently waited for his turn, spying the two women with a tender lift of one corner of his lips; he was suddenly thankful for the deep feelings these two had brought into his life. It was why he didn't mind the silly gossip, or the once-long-ago heated rumors about friends being “more than”, because he trusted and respected both as if they had grown up as his own family.

"Hey, babe." Danneel nonchalantly greeted her dear friend, and housemate of almost four years, giving over a kiss and a warm embrace, both longer than typical, which always disputed the rumors of their "hidden affair". "I hated that I miss'd ya this mornin'." She kept her left arm about his waist, while he tucked his right arm low at her back.

Only a few curious eyes, still believing in the tall love-tales, flashed up to catch sight of the missing right hand, staring for a longer time than usual.

Danneel was decked out in her airline hostess uniform: the monochromatic deep mauve skirt and jacket with a silky white mock under-blouse. There was a kerchief tie around her neck, cockeyed to the left on her collarbone where a DeMorgan emblem pin kept the material together. She stood in high heels, only an inch taller than Jensen's normal 6-ft-1 height.

Jensen gave Danneel the right to snuggle and cuddle to his side; she had been with him through much of his young adult life. He had never lost touch with her, and she had been instrumental in finding him this job when he needed one offside of his Coast Guard duty. They had gotten one another through the bullshit, never once wishing they could be more than good, close friends. They had attempted to date once--okay, twice--but soon it had been apparent they were too alike--like a twin-energy--too headstrong and stubborn, and trying to make themselves into a loving couple would prove disastrous.

Danneel had even helped Jensen come to terms with his own sexuality, allowing him the space to grow beyond simple pleasures and desires; she wasn't like many of the other "girlfriends" gay men had, where she would matchmake until he grew bored or exhausted from her pursuits. Danneel had recognized boundaries, keeping her mitts out of his love life and letting him pass or fail on his own. To which Jensen gave her the same kindness, simply standing by in the background when she needed that shoulder to cry or vent on. He had never acquired a “type”, and he didn't simply lust after every male he came into contact with. There was always a special, or a unique, connection, built from a single moment where he had discovered a likeness of himself in them. The closer they were, the better connected he would feel.

It had taken Jensen quite a few years to realize why he had more girls as friends, to then make a gradual step toward seeking out relationships with other men. After playing the field for much of his life, once he had settled in the Coast Guards, he'd committed to one lover only; it had proved to be his fatal, last foray into something worthy of being deemed “ finding a soulmate”. He had done all his exploring under-the-wire, when everything about his life was about "being a man" and taking charge, doing "manly" things in order to make it through another day. When he could find that similar man, who would become his lover, feeling the same as he did in the straight male-dominated society, he held on tight, thinking it was just Them versus The World. In time, though, that world would often infiltrate and tear Jensen's life to shreds, denying him the chance to keep that love he had found, after years of neglect and feeling...unworthy.

Both Danneel and Genevieve were single, but Danneel was in a "hush-hush" affair with JD Morgan, a direct heir of DeMorgan Enterprises. Neither Jensen nor Genevieve were envious, or jealous; they had once tried to talk Danneel out of the relationship. When the actually saw that their best friend was falling in love, they both vowed to keep every bit they knew to themselves, only speaking to one another, but never at work. They would often help her out of tough spots, when they could, knowing that as the months and years went on, it was inevitable that the affair would fizzle out, soon, or JD would make a drastic step toward, possibly, asking Danneel to be his wife. There were no family pressures for JD to find a proper heiress to another fortune, so this decision was solely by his own making; he just continued to drag his feet as one hurdle after another kept him from saying he was well-and-truly committed to Danneel.

"So...whom are we ogling now?" Danneel knew that routine format of these "office drones", so she knew there was a main target being thoroughly skewered, ready for the gossip and rumor mill the next day.

At Danneel's raised eyebrow of curiosity, Genevieve used her own head to gesture toward Officer Padalecki and Captain Murray.

Danneel was far from the railing; she stood on tip-toes to gaze over the steel piping. "ahhhh...my Jenny Belly's fierce competition!" She comically rubbed Jensen's obvious flat abs like they were grotesquely protruding. He never should've confessed his childhood obsession with Jelly Bellies, because she was relentless in her teases especially with that dumb, cutesy nickname.

"It's not even a competition."

Danneel and Genevieve both paused, mouths agape as they looked to one another. Jensen sounded fairly adamant that Officer Padalecki was not even a consideration as his equal.

"Oooooo...I hear some latent anger there."

"Will it be a jousting tournament? Or a fight to the death in a octagonal metal cage?"

Jensen rolled his eyes, peering off to the side to stare at nothing. He sipped at his coffee as he dared not to take offense, to side-glance down at Padalecki once more.

Jared still could feel the tingles coursing down his spine, and over his skin. Now he understood this to be because he was being watched, from above. He had seen quite a few favorable winks and smiles coming his way, on full blast, as he wandered with Chad around the first floor. But he had felt like a particularly keen pair of finer eyes spied on him, and weren't as impressed as most had reacted.

His face hurt from all the grimaced smiling he was doing, coupled with the ease in which Chad could make him deeply bellow or gutturally laugh. Chad had been the co-pilot on the flight that had picked Jared up from the mainland, months ago, to carry him here to Crescent Cay. Chad reminded Jared of the many men in the Army he had faithfully served beside; the men who had made the living-breathing nightmare worth surviving.

They had finally gotten closer to the ordering station at the coffee house/deli when Jared had glanced up to the open-spaced second floor. "Oh, hey...Murray, there's your girlfriend." He'd gently jabbed Chad with his elbow to gesture skyward with his chin.

“Which one, Paddy?” Chad barely spared a peek, counting out his bills. "Both...are way out of my league."

"What? The fire-engine redhead, sure...but the Brunette, too?" Jared scrunched his face in disbelief.

"Gen is too good for me, man. Besides, she rarely acknowledges I breathe the same air as her."

Jared could sense this really irked Chad. "You ever just...talk to her? Ask her out, or something?"

"Nah..." Chad went about counting, then refolding his money as he shook his head, keeping back the required payment once he re-pocketed the cash. "Our lives--not to mention our schedules--will never mesh perfectly." Not to mention, they worked in different buildings, and she was more nine-to-five, where as Chad was a 24/7 minion, who sometimes worked long-ass and piece-mealed shifts to complete his hectic 72-80hr workweek. Trouble was, when you were good and dependable, DeMorgan clients often requested particular employees to make their journeys and chartered excursions less agonizing.

"You can't mean to tell me you have never once flown this girl off this island..." Jared had to assume the worst; he had to think, or frightfully imagine, that Genevieve was "the one that had gotten away". Or in Chad's first attempts at showing interest, the situation had soured and been hit with instant rejection. Not to mention, the way this place turned into a live-action soap opera, he could think that word had gotten to Genevieve before Chad even had a good, leveled playing field.

"No, no, of course not. She barely makes eye contact with me. Actually, I've seen her look through me."

"eh, I'm sure you're reading the signals all wrong. She seems--"

"I know...but Gen's worked in Head Office, and here, an'...I'm sure she's heard--things...about me." Chad blinked slow, sighing heavily as he shook his head, knowing that those untouchable women he would often crave to have a nice, monogamous relationship with flew out of his reach once they heard his dreaded nicknames. Or learned that when he had first been hired, he had managed to sleep with every female he could--co-workers and clients; it hadn't mattered that they were younger or older than him. He had been making up for those sad years of misspent, virginal youth. Unfortunately, those years accumulated had given him a horrible reputation he couldn't shake, no matter how hard or how long he spent attempting to change the present and future.

"But that's not YOU. I've heard some of it, an' you're nothing like what I've heard 'em say."

"Thanks, man." Chad gave off a small grin, patting Jared's back.

"Want me to go say a few words on your behalf?" Jared would do it; he was that kind of "wingman" for his fellow sappy Romantics.

"Oh, God no!!" Chad sputtered out a hard laugh, punching Jared a solid left with a bunched fist to a flexing bicep. "Let her be! My dream--my fantasy, really...is that one day she sees me for who I really am, by her own way. Not by me or someone who knows me."

Jared nodded his head, narrowing his vision as he discovered what Chad had truly wanted. "ahhh, the slow reveal, huh? Tha's nice an' all, but...wouldn't it be easier...faster, even--to simply tell her...show her?"

"I have to know she's interested before I even dare to try."

"And, once you DO know?"

"Who knows. Life's full of some crazy-ass shit, dude. I jus' buckle down for the rides."

"If I confess somethin' to ya'...will you, at the very least, do somethin' for her--out of the blue, by no force whatsoever--while I'm gone?" Jared wanted to come home to some "good news" for once, especially if this cruise didn't offer him the one saving grace he'd been after since he had started working at DeMorgan.

"uhhh...you already came out to me, Paddywack, an', it's still a HELLs NAH, BRA!"

Laughing outright, Jared made to reach out like he'd nipple pinch, but Chad deftly side-stepped him."Nice one, asshole!" He took the teases to his sexuality in stride because he knew with Chad that it didn't matter; one of those rare straight men who was secure and confident in their own sexuality. "I told you, right...I crewed The Sea Swept...with Ackles..."

"Yeah, Iceman to your Maverick---did you not understand the Top Gun references? We talk'd 'bout this, like, 20minutes ago."

Jared's brow was furrowed in befuddlement about the gossip's names for them referencing the Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer characters; he bolstered a little at the reminder, just because he'd been racking his brain to sense why this was becoming such fodder between them. "First time I met him--face to face...on the docks..."

"uh-huh..."

"After all I'd heard...I couldn't help but, ya'know--LIKE him on sight." Jared flashed a look away, rubbing at his chin, which had grown a slight stubble since this morning. He smirked, lightly, then brought his gaze back to Chad. "Soun's awful stupid of me, since I don't imagine the guy'd spit on me if I was en flambé..."

Chad put out a harder laugh than he meant to, which started Jared into snickering, where his shoulders shook first. "--cool vision, man--" He managed to choke out as he hooked his right hand over Jared's shoulder, using him as a leaning post.

Jared softened his laughter, growing a bit serious. "But he's, I dunno..." He kept rubbing at his stubble, over the cheek now; it was one of the things he liked early in the morning...waking up in a lover's arms, after a night full of carnal desires, to slowly ease into wakefulness and slow kiss to start rubbing body parts, especially faces, where rough cheeks gave flesh burns the harder and longer they locked lips. He couldn't get this one image out of his head...of Ackles reddish-gold stubble, how that must feel against the skin upon waking. "...look at him, up there...flanked by those two beautiful women, an' you can tell jus' by him an' their reactions to him..." By the appearance of Jared's face, it was tough to tell if he was envious or...jealous. "--they ah-dooorrrreee him, yet..."

Chad suddenly grew just as serious as Jared, finally sparing a longer look upward, then focused only on hazel eyes that almost pleaded with him to help explain the hard contrasts to reality from pure fabricated rumors. "You do know he's just like you, right?"

"Army. Check. Coast Guard. Check. Yeah, sure. I haven't heard about his childhood, but I can't imagine we're much more different if we both entered the military to get out of a fucked up home life. What else can there b--"

"No, no--" Chad moved his hand to place the palm flat to the heart, directly over it's steady beats. "In here, man."

Jared glanced down at the hand over his chest, until a new dawning emerged, then he stared wide-eyed with a jaw slackening. "What--the--hell--"

Jensen was returning from walking with Danneel to the car service--sent by JD Morgan--that would take her to the smaller terminal where the company jet was situated. He gave her the same rundown he always did when their shifts clashed like this, making sure words were exchanged that needed to be spoken for quite awhile, in case either couldn't stay in touch. They would call, once settled, to make contact once again, in a few days. Three crazy weeks apart, which wasn't unusual, because Jensen knew exactly where Danneel would end up once she'd returned during her two week schedule--right back into JD's clutches, being everything but a "wife" to him.

Feeling a little miffed that things might never change for either of them, breaking the monotony, Jensen stomped back to his office, this time he would take the small elevator that would lift him one floor up. He had kept his head down, pacing to his open doorway, where he had found someone already occupying the space in front of his desk. It slightly irked him that his privacy had been invaded without him being fully aware; he typically didn't need any employee in his office unless the appointment was arranged or he had invited someone to discuss an important topic that very day.

"Wha--?"

Padalecki. Front and center. His arms were crossed behind his back, feet properly spaced apart, but he was turned, partially, looking behind him to where Jensen stood rock-solid stiff in the doorway, as if he contemplated spinning around and just walking right back out.

"Captain Ackles, I--" Jared was full of apologies.

Jensen shut his lids briefly, as he swiveled to shut the door on them. It wasn't that he was fearful of being alone with the young officer, he just didn't have a good grasp of how exactly to talk to him. "You can chuck out the formalities, Jared." He grabbed for the long wand that would help him close his blinds. He gazed out for a few seconds, not seeing that anyone had been watching them, so this made it look intentional, that he had requested Officer Padalecki's presence. "And...call me 'Jensen'."

Almost immediately, Jared was dumbfounded; he hadn't expected this treatment from Ackles. He had expected...man, he really hadn't known what to expect, because Chad had just dropped a whopper of a story on his shoulders. Now that he knew, he actually had some mild sense he had known there was so much more he had in common with the fellow officer, despite being four-to-five years younger. This was a bit more than he could cope with; the news was a relief, of sorts, in truth. "I'm sorry. I know, in few hours, we'll be on our way to Miami, then we'll be working together on The Contessa..."

Jensen held his left hand up, palm out. "I already know this." He crossed his arms, tucking his missing hand under his biceps; his left hand clamped around the flexing muscles of his right arm. “Do you have a point, Jared?”

"...sorry, I ramble. Nervous." Jared gave of a telling nervous sniffle, then showed his hands, making it noticeable that his hands shook, then he wiped the palms over his thighs curving around the back pockets of his belted jeans.

Unfolding his arms, Jensen scratched a thumbnail over the skin on his face, making his way to stand behind his desk. "You have no reason to be nervous." Which didn't explain why Jensen was feeling that same subtle nervous tension. "Or stressed. Just say what you--" Without realizing it, he had not only used his amputated arm to make a "move-it-along" gesture, but he was also keeping it visible as he leaned on the cluttered desktop. If he didn't feel comfortable amidst fellow officers or co-workers, he often kept it hidden, or at his back, at attention.

Jared took a cautious step forward to the desk, hands were about to splay as if he'd soon lean to look across at Jensen. "Is it true you're gay?!?" He shut his eyes, now a hand was sliding over his face in shame. "Shit! God--sorry..." He kept his hand there, hiding half his face. "--that came out loud, and rude..."

Jensen couldn't help it as he let out a soft snicker; he was bewildered by the utter charm on display, the one quality he had a guilty pleasure for. He smirked from one side of his lips. "I suppose this matters to you..." Why? For what reason...? And then it hit him directly in the gut as his small grin slowly dissipated. "Or is it going to be a problem?"

"no, no...me, too---I mean...I am, too--gay...I mean...me...too." Jared lost the last bit of air he had sucked in; he pointed to his own chest, giving off a wary smile.

Jensen calmly took his chair, pulling the seat toward his desk, where he could tuck his knees under and lean over the desktop, essentially hiding his arm again. "How long?" He made a short motion toward an empty chair that Jared could take in front of his desk, to the left side.

Jared spun to eye it, but didn't sit as his brow furrowed. "huh?"

"How long have you been 'out'?" Being of the same ilk, Jensen understood when a military ranked officer would need to keep all personal information as private as possible; even the closest of brothers in warfare found out things on a need-to-know basis.

"uh, pretty much right when I knew--high school. Kiss'd a guy. Was older than me. Senior. A jock--and, no, not the quarterback, but important enough to matter. He was in the closet, using girls to--well, ya know. I was 15, and I'd never felt...a single, solitary thing with a girl, though I--I have kiss'd them, but, yeah...nothin' stirrin' down below. Nada. Zilch. One kiss from another man...well, he was barely a man-man, but..."

Now Jensen understood about that "I ramble" admission, which made him like Jared even more. "I get your drift." For some god-awful reason, watching this young turk stumble through his stories, making open and honest statements about a past Jensen really didn't need to know about, it made him less nervous himself. This was why he liked this tempting charming quality; he could either choose to be a bumbling idiot, as well, or become the calm, cool and collected Adult.

"good, good...because, I sure don't." Jared exhaled on a soft laugh when he saw Jensen trying to hide a smile with his left hand. "I'm still rambling because...well, now, I'm extremely intimidated by you." Having taken the first initiative to speak to Jensen, he know felt it was a bit presumptuous of him to expect a standing superior officer to allow him inside his office, and then to allow him to speak so freely, and honestly. He did know why his diarrhea of the mouth disorder kept getting worse and worse around this man; usually, he would stop and become quieter, or less chatty. It was as if Jensen had pulled his string the minute their eyes connected and he couldn't shut-up to save his life.

Being amongst Jensen's personal items, in this private office that subsided as a smaller version of "home" at work, when he was on a charter or a cruise, it had caused Jared to kick off that intense bout of intimidation. Only the desktop had been cluttered, but the soft cream walls were delicately adorned with numerous accommodations, some Jared was familiar with because he had them, as well, just stuffed in a box somewhere at a storage facility, until he could put that down payment on a house. There were too many medals and pictures with out-ranking chiefs and officers, and even the Secretary of Defense, making Jared feel that his back history didn't quite match-up, and never would. Master Chief Petty Officer Jensen R. Ackles must have stories to tell, but getting them out of him was going to be a challenge, and then some.

"Don't be. I'm not your enemy. Nor am I you competitor, like some would think." Before he realized it, those words slipped by and Jensen wished to take them back. The tone of his voice made it seem like he was boastful or egotistical, but he had a reason for saying what he did; it would take some extra explanation.

But, strangely, Jared didn't take it that way, at all. He was smiling, tension inside ebbing. "--you don't think I'd actually get the job over you, do you?"

"Oh..." Jensen lifted one lone eyebrow in teasing curiosity. "--you heard?"

"Hard not to." Jared finally went for the straight back chair, pulling it over so he could sit directly in front and closer. He plopped down, but sat forward, elbows on the armrests as he threaded his fingers.

Jensen could see the subtle tease of a challenge in those ever-changing hazel eyes; now they were green, showing off a degree of enthusiasm, bordering on passionate. "Can you blame me? Not only do I have seniority here, but..."

"You're Master Chief, an' I am just barely reaching for Senior Chief."

Jensen liked the sound of the ambition; it was something he had for himself. "Think you'll get it?"

"I know I'll get it. I've come this far, right? Why loose momentum and confidence at this point?"

Jensen leaned back in his chair, letting the soft creak of the leather permeate the room. "I like hearing that, Jared. You shouldn't give up, or give in. Certainly when they're handing the job over to me."

Jared chuckled, shaking his head. "They said you could sometimes be a tough bastard."

"Don't listen to everything THEY say. And, I'm not so bad once you get to know me."

There was a smidge of awkward silence, of Jared opening his mouth but words not slipping past and Jensen clearing his throat as he contemplated how to discuss his earlier remark.

"And will I?"  
"I need to--"

"huh?"

"What?"

Jared waved away his words. "Naw, go ahead...you were gonna say..."

Jensen rested his forearms on the chair's armrests. "I wanted to clarify what I meant, before. About us not being in 'competition'. You have to look at it from a different angle than what it means on the surface." He glanced up to realize he had Jared's rapt attention; he even felt those eyes watching his mouth, but then going back to looking him directly in the eyes. "DeMorgan goes through it's employees for different reasons. Sometimes they need the professionalism, sometimes they need it to be like the parental guidance of a junior high school chaperon. I bring something to the table that DeMorgan likes because I've been here longer; I know their routines and I know how to behave. YOU, and any other applicant that applies, also bring something, but it's much more different and it could be what they want. I don't know truthfully what DeMorgan is looking for in a First Mate for The Contessa, because none of us fully know exactly what she's here to be. What cruises she'll offer and what type of environment she promotes to passengers." Jensen deeply sighed, then brought his hands together where his left hand clasped over his right stump as if he were going to thread all ten fingers, if he had them.

Wow. Jared was impressed; this was the most words he'd heard from Jensen, and he found he liked the soft, yet rumbling voice. "Understood. I wasn't offended, anyway, but I do appreciate the clarification. Seriously." He touched a place over his heart, giving a slight bow of his head in thanks. "So, I'll say again...will I get that chance?"

"What chance?"

"Get to know you? Enough to change my mind about you?" Jared already felt those initial views were changing, and about to go through further metamorphosis the longer he spent with Jensen.

"That depends."

"On?"

"Win the job over me, fair and square, without steppin' on my toes, or using baser tactics...and, maybe, I'll consider my own viewpoint of you from this morning."

"It sucked, right?" Jared nodded in his own straightforward admission of guilt. "I bombed with you right out of the first gate. No one had told me you were--"

Jensen hadn't know what Jared's next words would be, but he didn't want to hear "handicapped" or "disabled"; he was none of those words. "I'm not." And he wasn't some tragic character who'd survived a national event where the media had shown him as the every day superhero who saved lives; he had simply been doing his job, then he had sacrificed a part of himself to make sure every civilian made it out alive. "I wasn't wounded in combat, nor a conflict overseas." He motion as if in afterthought to his missing right hand. "I lost this while at work, doin' my normal Coast Guard duties." Of course, Jensen's idea of "normal" even meant when he and his fellow officers would be called out on rescue missions in the Gulf or Atlantic Oceans; it wasn't as if he'd had a terrible mishap with the faulty copier machine.

"oh..." Jared pinched his lips together. "...still, I didn't know, and, I never looked at you long enough to see everything about you, so..." Jensen had kept it hidden quite expertly, which only showed how good he was at disguise. Like he had trained himself to hide in plain sight, like the good solider he was. "--it's stupid and empty to apologize for my actions. I'll own the idiocy, just know...it's not taking much for me to have all prior thoughts of you erased, for good."

Jensen wasn't sure how to feel about knowing Jared gave him a thought, especially if he felt a modicum of the animosity Jensen had owned before about Jared. "Really?"

"Yeah...an', I'm not lookin' for a hand-holdin' gay buddy, or anything. I wanted to ask outright. Get the words directly from your mouth, not gossip. Look you in the eye and find some solidarity. An', I just...I wanted to make it very clear I remain a professional when it comes to work ethics. I don't look at any of my co-wokers as potential lovers. Nor do I use my job as 'party central', even though most of my contemporaries do. Nor do I cash in favors owed, and I don't look for somebody to cast a helping-hand down to make my road a little easier.” Jared took a deep breath as he stood to his full height. “I just--I needed you to know I knew, and that I fully understood." He offer out his left hand for Jensen to take with his own left.

Jensen couldn't deny the blatant offer of companionship, not exactly friendship, yet. "I appreciate it, Jared, I do." It had been nice to know that he had another person like himself by his side or at least below him in rank.

"Thanks, Jensen.” Jared gave out a soft nod, then spun slightly. “I will see you in the air then."

When Jared exited through his office doorway, Jensen sat in his chair, leaning back while his head averted and he stared into the carpet underneath him. It was jarring to have someone like Jared to talk with; someone who spoke with such a genuine authenticity that it was...both refreshing and a little fever inducing.

People had a self-consciousness around him, when speaking or reacting to him; they tried so hard to censor their words and not use anything that reminded Jensen of not having a hand. They, also, never assumed to offer a hand to shake, like Jensen would be ashamed by the simple gesture. And if Jensen took the time to completely analyze this intimate meeting between them, he would discover that not once had Jared allowed his gaze to drop to that stump in plain sight, not even when it was on full display.

It had been too long since another man had treated Jensen like a normal, whole person, and not one with an obvious handicap that might require constant coddling and nurturing.

Jensen had to catch his next breath, feeing his heart rate pick up speed as he wondered just what the next few days--the next two weeks--would be like in the company of Jared Padalecki.

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

It was by sheer non-calculated accident that Jared was sitting with the other pursers, and a spattering of cabin stewards, while Jensen was in more comfortable seating with Alona Tal, the hired Cruise Director.

Jensen's more luxurious chair faced Jared and the other lowly employees; this wasn't meant to be a segregation of work classes. It simply happened to be that people gravitated to who they knew and felt comfortable sitting with for the small flight to Miami from Crescent Cay. Every so often, Jared would lean back his head, taller than his cushion rest, and he would find those sharp green eyes that had appeared to be in search of him. He would make corresponding faces, because of the incessant non-important chatter around him, giving him a air of pointlessness. He had caught Jensen's smirks, using his left hand to cover for those growing secret smiles. Jared's surrounding co-workers never knew the difference, of his wavering attention span; he had known exactly what to say and when to say it, and what corresponding noises to make, showing mock interest. He had a nifty brow lift that could be considered an answer to any topic brought into play.

Jensen had been watching all of this taking place, finding himself liking Padalecki's face more and more. A lot, in fact. And it was because of it's striking handsome features, then it's ability to exchange into something so outrageously goofy that it would cause one to snortle out a laugh from gut to nostrils. There was such an easy charm and friendliness about Jared that it often led unsuspecting innocents to think they had his undivided attention, when actually those hazel eyes would zap away, catching the next new bright-and-shiny thing. The whimsical, wry humor was something new to Jensen, and he sensed it would make their building relationship a little more comfortable to walk through. Jensen found the mere idea of Jared Padalecki now to be quite...endearing, if not, enticing, to get to know better, once the cruise got underway. He hadn't felt this much excitement in years.

It had been months since he had last seen, or worked with Alona, so this was an opportunity for them to play catch-up; she was giving him every bit of an update on her life--she had lost him at she and her newly-wed husband's future plans for kids, and then he had been caught by one seriously goofy face coming at him. He had attempted to use a cough to hide his laugh, nodding his head as Alona talked. It had begun to feel nice and comfy to be trapped--willingly--in an intimate web with Jared. It was almost like they had a shared history, knowing one another better than the other did.

Once Jensen broke eye contact, Alona gently cupping his right biceps, Jensen knew he should return to full attention. He wished he had taken that chance, earlier, to grab a seat for Jared; they could've chatted about their Army days, or how they both found themselves entering the Coast Guard Academy right after leaving the Army. When Jensen had found a few hours to spare, before leaving his office for this flight, he had used the time wisely to pull down Senior Chief Petty Officer Padalecki's personal and employee file; now that Jared was on a shift with him, working alongside him, he had felt a need to brush up on some details, in case he might need conversation starters. Little did he realize what a novel-length file it would become, so he had to abandon the personal stuff for straight-up employee reports and reviews of the last six months of Jared's employee at DeMorgan, then on into The recent Coast Guard years to finally end at the Army and basic training glowing reports on a young man destined for greatness who had untapped potential.

Now, there was no dispute to Jared's admission of professionalism, but knowing this much of nothing but work ethics and how he held himself on the job, going above and beyond his normal duties made Jensen wish he had foregone that curiosity to forage through the personal file. At least, maybe, learn a few pieces of Intel that would make him understand just why a newbie like Jared thought he had the audacity to even try for a higher ranking job, skipping past years of experience to gain the role of First Mate beside the Captain. Jared hadn't even crewed on a chartered yacht any higher than a steward or deckhand. What motivations spurred him to achieve such an unattainable goal?

Jensen had been realizing, from what Alona had told him, that staff being brought in for this "trial run" from Miami to the Bahamian Islands would be an experiment in team building. Half of the crew were from Speight & Townsend, the other were of DeMorgan employ. The Contessa's prior captain would be running out his last month of contract, but he would be fully retired for this ship's maiden voyage. By then, DeMorgan had hoped to have Welling in the Captain's seat with a newly appointed First Mate at the helm by his side.

Alona made it seem like DeMorgan was pulling for an "in-house" hire taking the spot, before they looked elsewhere. Jensen even learned there were two Speight & Townsend pursers vying for the position, as well; neither had Jensen's expertise, but that hadn't appeared too integral at this point. This discovery lessened the need to feel animosity toward Jared; it was beginning to feel like now it was a company race, not a personal one. They would battle as pairs, both finding that one of those inside of the duo would become the final "winner".

But, for this trial run cruise, Jensen would be Head, or Chief, Purser. Immediately, upon arrival into Miami, Jensen made the choice to pull Jared aside before they even got inside of the van passenger-bus that would take them to the docks; he would offer him an opportunity to co-manage with him. Because of Jared's work history, then his selfless act on-board The Sea Swept, Jensen had known Jared was much like him--a diligent, attentive worker, even at the mealiest of tasks. Jensen would, also, precept as-the-job-went-on with Jared, doing what Officer Welling had done, showing Jared the ropes while on-the-job training, sharing a specific wisdom only they had to offer the younger crewmen.

  


Jared wasn't sure what to think when Jensen came right for him, after they disembarked off the plane. They were about to head out of the terminal, having grabbed carry-ons and other luggage and cases, when Jensen used his right hand--now with a crude rubber/plastic attachment protruding from the stump, pressing hard against his upper chest.

"Whut?" Jared eyed the rest of the crew mulling around them to exit the terminal.

Jensen looked from side-to-side, waiting for the right, private moment to speak. "Two things. One, I didn't know this, just like I had no idea you had applied, but some of the ship's original crew--from Speight & Townsend--are steppin' up to bat with us."

Jared swallowed, hard; it was only because now he knew definitively that he couldn't compare to Jensen, and now he had no idea to the other competition. "Oh...whoa...well, shit..."

"Don't worry." Jensen blew off the information as if it meant nothing. "I think you an' I will be better off. Not only do we have the advantage of being from DeMorgan--the main holding stock of this merger...I was told Speight Jr. comes out of the hotel/resort business, which means he used his hotel service employees, hoping for the best. That they would learn how to work on a ship without the full-on experience we have."

"oh...whew..." Jared did a mock swipe of his brow, like there was real sweat there. "An' what else?"

"Second is...I'm gonna need a second-in-command at my side. This is a big crew. It's what we would normally have on any given cruise like this, but...our ratio of crew member to passenger is way-too high. It would almost be even, or say, two crew to every single passenger. Not this time, so we'll have to manage an employee roster that has potential to manifest into chaos."

Jared nodded his head, assuming he knew what Jensen meant. "And there's no telling how much cooperation we'll get from Speight & Townsend spawns."

Jensen chuckled as he nodded his head. "Exactly. The Contessa isn't larger, like our other brands in the fleet, but, I have a feeling that Alona and I will find one seriously FUBAR'd situation come tomorrow morning, once we've set sail."

Jared couldn't help but laugh outright, then cleared his throat, bowing his head to act mature once again. "Better the Devil you know, huh?"

Jensen had to chuckle; Jared was too smart for his own good. "No, not--okay, sort of...but, I trust you more because the same blood flows through our veins--" And he wasn't talking about their similar sexual likes and desires. "Others may think this is a pony ride to the bigger show, but--I crew every job like it's THE ONE AND ONLY I'm ever gonna have. I give more because I see The Contessa more like a genuine 'person', not simply a man-made object. Like she'd be my favorite Aunt or a belov'd Granma..."

With his eyes widening briefly, Jared smirked. "I kinda do the same, a little bit, but...yeah, I get your meaning. She's our girl...she deserves our deep respect and loyalty."

Jensen smiled in return, left hand flat to Jared's chest. "Actually...she's our Princess, an' we are her noble knights--if you wanted to go even further in description."

"Well...she IS a Contessa." Jared passed on a subtle wink, while he stood tall and proud, puffing out his chest like he was under chain-mail and decked out in a suit of armor.

"Yeah...yes, she is..." Jensen tried to contain his need to bellow a hard laugh.

Holy crap! He wasn't going to make this first week without wanting to kiss that damn mouth, maybe not even the first 48hrs of being on shiftwork.

  


Everyone spotted her as the caravan of van passenger-buses began to wind around, parking alongside the walkways surrounding the dock The Contessa was anchored to. They would only be stationed there, briefly, as people disembarked and the 600+ employees toiled about until they reached the gang-plank stretched from land to ship, starting to forge a line in order to greet their Captain, First Mate and the straggling DeMorgan Human Resource clerks; the office clerks would welcome, then sign in every single one of them.

The Contessa, though a smaller vessel, was majestic in her refurbishment. An array of multi-colored triangle flags were strewn across upper and lower decks. It was hours before boarding passengers would arrive, but there was a nearby parking lot already filling up with a few cars, just waiting to embark at their scheduled arrival time.

On one of the passenger-buses, Jensen had made certain to grab two spots for Jared and him, all the way in the back, taking a window seat while Jared could spread out his long legs in the aisle. They were the fourth passenger-bus in line, and when others were eager to exit, they managed to hold back, remaining seated until the interior was empty.

Jared hadn't even asked, he decided right away to be their designated "pack mule" while he enjoyed the sight of watching Jensen enjoy the sight of finally being able to soak in the view before him, from point A to Point Z. He got an extra thrill watching those green eyes widen, then alight as Jensen devoured a fairly ordinary ship, in Jared's own estimation; there was an odd sense of affection emitting from deep within. Right then, Jared knew Jensen was no robot. The Tin Man actually did have a heart, and a warm, softhearted one at that.

"Sheesh...they really went all out." Jared was only being sarcastic.

"That's the DeMorgan way. Shit or get off the pot. No cuttin' corners. Money is no object, and certainly when you're born into it and have it to burn." Jensen realized he'd said too much, then cleared his throat. "I'd seen her 'Before' pictures--she wasn't god-awful. You could see she had potential. Knowing DeMorgan goes for a superior quality product...just look at the King, Queen and Prince brands..." He made a sweeping gesture with his right hand, which was still encased in the prosthetic hand. "This...is them at their ultimate best."

Jared bit down on his top lip to keep from speaking out too honestly; he really wished Jensen would take off that ridiculous fake hand. It looked fake and it was making Jensen act...weird, like he had to BE a certain way in the public eye.

They were stopped, standing in the long line of their crew members and shipmates to board. The Human Resource clerks from DeMorgan offices were spread out; they wanted to not only admit the right roster of employees, but they needed everyone on board the ship, hours before passengers arrived, in order to start the employee activities that were awaiting them. They were checking IDs and passports, then handing out company binders and tote bags for the two-week round-trip cruise; this would be part adventure cruise, par usual, but also an employee work convention. Or what Human Resources loved to call "team management building", making the every employee feel part of the executive branch, mostly a collective think-tank in how better to serve and service their customers' needs. Each DeMorgan employee was always given a portion of stock options right at the point of hire; this made everybody feel they were worthy and important, or at least a solution to a solvable problem or issue.

Jared glanced down at the stance Jensen took while staring speechlessly. The fake hand was now tucked under the left bicep. "Do you have to wear that often?" He merely pointed to the prosthetic in mid-air, then gestured with his head once Jensen's finally turned to look into his eyes.

"Eh, this..." Jensen spun the right forearm, making the permanent sculpted hand swivel up and down. He reached under his rolled sleeve to pull off the attachment, then gave it over to Jared, who shook his head with a smirk surfacing while he clutched the object to his chest. "Sorry. I do it for 'show'. Mostly. I'll wear it with my dressage Whites and Blues--" He snatched back the arm, reattaching it deftly to the cushioned stump. "--covered with my gloves. The skin color is a little too, uh...Crayola Crayon Nude for my tastes, but...it stops the stares."

Jared had no fathomable reason for reaching out to touch, to slide fingers up the crudely-made prosthesis. He had never touched one before, or seen one this close, nor met an injured Vet off of combat who had to wear one in public. After getting over the awkwardness of first impressions, and now knowing a little of the real Jensen Ackles, Jared hated that this type of scrutiny forced a man like Jensen to be this way--to conform to The Norm, to behave, still being fearful, less confident. As he reached the bend of the elbow, he smiled wider. "ahhhh--warmth...I like this better."

Both of them watched Jared's fingers clamp, the pads in a deep tissue massage over the muscles and tendons beneath.

Jensen took a hard swallow, slow blinking his lids as he allowed the familiar touch of a man penetrate the worn nerves and weary muscles. "I have three, uhm...prosthesis. This one was my first--the original. I use it for 'show' when I don't plan on needing the hand. Like public appearances...parties...special events and dinners. My second--my next oldest, is one like a metal claw--like a clamp, two prongs..."

Jared had to laugh, finding the warmth radiating off Jensen quite enticing. "You make 'em sound like children."

Jensen gave out a spotty grin. "They might as well be. I went through a, sort of, rebirth after the surgery--this little one--" He pet the cool plastic/rubber combination. "--was just something I could wear to take the empty spot. I was in Recovery, at the VA hospital, so my eyes...my body, then my mind, could adapt. VA's therapists claimed it was a moment of letting go...a grief process to the missing limb. Embrace the loss or let it overtake me to shrivel up and die."

Die because of one missing hand? Jared closed his eyes to inhale a long breath. He could speculate all he wanted; he could even think about how he would handle a moment like this, or how any soldier in war and conflicts often returned without parts of themselves. But the idea of someone like Jensen, thinking or even contemplating the end of their life...it simply didn't match the person before him, nor the one he was growing to admire, more and more.

"--'m glad you didn't choose the latter." Jared muttered, as he kept his head bent, his hand no undercupping the massive biceps.

"It's been three years...an' I still haven't fully embraced--everything." Jensen wasn't sure he should admit to how much he had denied for himself, because he wanted to still be considered a good soldier, a whole soldier...a normal solider who could still save another's life, if called out on duty. He had succumbed to a modicum of amenities that were freely offered to him, especially when the price of replacing a single hand kept rising, year after year. Innovative research was far-reaching into the computer age and limb prosthetics were taking on a robotic-edge that intrigued him, the more time he spent visiting the tech labs. That would be his next, third, limb replacement: the small robotic arm that didn't resemble a real forearm nor hand, but became the tool needed to mimic muscle movement and tendon tension enough to "act like" fingers.

"No one says you have to."

"Well, yeah...of course...but there are still plenty of superior officers above my rank who wish I would conform. Who wish I would know my limitations and not try to seek independence when I'm not...like other officers. In civilian life, I would rarely put on either limb...DeMorgan was the one employer who didn't keep me around to be some American Hero story, nor did they care about my injury. They wanted me back, whole or not. But, the higher I climb..." Could he even talk about his goal of being 'Captain' some day? "--the more I feel obligated to abide by restrictions."

Dropping his hand, Jared glanced away. "You shouldn't feel that way."

Jensen shrugged as if it wasn't as big of a deal as Jared made it appear; he had finally allowed it to sink in that he would simply have to agree to play a dual-life...forever. "No one truly knows all my strengths and weaknesses. Not even me. Each new role I take on, advancing up the ladder...it brings a fresh newness I haven't experienced yet. Being a First Mate or whatever comes next...won't always require me to have both limbs, but...one never knows what's waiting for them around the corner."

"--shit..." Jared mumbled as he pinched the loose skin above the slope of his nose, between his furrowing eyebrows. it was moot to become enraged when Jensen had been dealing this long with everything, but it would nice if someone could be there to at least support him, if not, be a constant cheerleader to his full independence.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to dampen the air, bring the mood down."

"Nah, man...tha's not why I..." Jared shook his head, keeping his face turned away; he pursed his lips tight to hold back what he really wanted to say. Even at 29yrs old, it had still been too long since he had these types of feelings for another man; he didn't want to fuck this one up like he had in high school. His emotions were always hyper-extended and over-excited, where he pushed too much, too soon. Jensen wasn't used to someone like him; he could sense that right away. An easy charm like his could foul up such sheer perfection. This time, Jared wanted it to go better than he could imagine in his dreams.

"What? What is it?"

Jared spared a quick glance to Jensen, then let out a soft sigh. "If you really wanna know, I'll tell you."

"I do." Jensen bumped sides with Jared, showing the ease of camaraderie about to flourish between them. he dipped his head, in case it was private, so they could simply whisper between one another.

"Rumor dictates I should hate you. There should be mutual hatin'-on...but, the more I'm with you, around you, the more I like you." The more I like who I can be with you, Jared thought. "And even more..." He did turn his head this time, to look down into steady green eyes staring back, intensely. "--I like the YOU that's unafraid of a silly missing hand." It was more power-punching to reach out and touch the amputated limb. "shit--you're even more attractive with the stump showin'...or even that folded back sleeve thing you did for The Sea Swept."

Jensen was the one now who averted his head. What a way to knock him off his keister, right in the gut. "--jesus..." He pulled out his trademark aviator shades to don them. "You shouldn't be sayin' stuff like that to me."

For a hot minute, Jared was worried--had he stepped out of line, too soon? But then he could tell there was some hidden smile, so sweet and innocent, being held back. "Why?"

"...'cuz I'm findin' it awful difficult to find one fuckin' inch of you unlikeable."

Jared looked up to the heavens, broad grin of stupidity on his face. "...you LIKE me...you really REALLY like me!"

"...shut up, Officer Padalecki..."

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Once the employee check-in line started to move--the clerks getting into a smooth and easy groove--it was only another twenty-five minutes, to a half-hour, before they had their turn. They received their binders and tote bags, learning that Fate, or Destiny, had dealt them a favorable hand in making them roomies. Because this first trip on-board The Contessa was a test, Jensen did not get his usual Head Purser's cabin, which wasn't a bad size. He did, though, get bumped up to a balcony family cabin with an additional modular room for children, or in-laws.

Jensen had learned he would share the bump-up accommodation with Jared, and two more DeMorgan employees: one was a newly hired DeMorgan deckhand-cum-engineer, and the other was a former Speight & Townsend purser. Jensen knew the deckhand/engineer would pull the long, crazy shifts; he wasn't too keen on the fourth bunkmate, now that he had been forewarned by Alona of some S&T employee's animosity. Many of those former employees had a "party central" mentality, and Jensen had begun to wonder if the guy he would have in his room wasn't one of those self-professed cruise ship Lotharios. Someone who tended to go above and way-too beyond S&T's old "At Your Service" slogan.

After they had boarded, they were allowed to locate their cabin, store their luggage and cases, hopefully, able to meet-n-greet their fellow co-workers and cabin mates. Jensen found it a bit more restful to see familiar DeMorgan faces, and when they spotted him, somehow they deeply sighed in relaxation smiling more; something about having Jensen around calmed them, comfortable with him being in charge.

At 2:30pm, all DeMorgan employees had to enter the Starlight Theater, which was a large auditorium with a small stage at the front; it seated 950 maximum. Everyone would be handed their credentials, their names badges to wear and lanyards to go around their necks containing safety keys and a silver-plated alert whistle. This would the first Team Management Building meeting, which was mandatory. During the two-week cruise, there would be several meetings of this nature, but fulfilling DeMorgan employee compliance only required them to attend five of them; if you weren't present at one, when important information dropped, one was still supposed to find out from a meeting record posted near the Purser's office.

Little by little, Jensen and Jared could detect a bit of some ruffled feathers from S&T recruits who had been absorbed into DeMorgan; it was obvious they stuck together, and some had a pack mentality, with added ring leaders. But they were less in numbers because most S&T former employees wanted to keep their jobs, needing the steady paycheck and health insurance. Sometimes conforming meant sacrificing a little dignity, because the old ways of The Contessa were no more. If she had a "bad rep" or had been given a low score on the Better Business Bureau website, then DeMorgan would proudly take her in hand and change that to be the very opposite.

The minute Jensen used his keycard to open the newly renovated suite, he felt like his old self--like he had truly come home. Strange to think that a boy who had grown up to be afraid of water, having never learned to swim correctly, only perfecting a dog-paddle and how to cling-for-dear-life to the sides of a community pool, was not only a member of the Coast Guard, but intensely loved life amongst the sea, finding solace and peace. He dropped his bags, going right for the balcony and deeply inhaled the sea air, feeling the waning warmth of the sun. He almost forgot Jared was with him, until he turned to squint and caught sight of the tall, lanky frame leaning on the sliding glass door's framework.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Jared pushed off, walking over to the railing. He couldn't stop staring at Jensen, absolutely floored by how human, how real, he looked. Not to mention how utterly beautiful one single stranger's face could be. What made Jared smile wider was Jensen's ability to finally let go, to break free of self-imprisoning chains.

The prosthesis had been abandoned, and now a bare, rough-looking stump rested on the railing, along with Jensen's left forearm. There was a fading black and white ink tattoo etched around the 2.5inch exposure of bare skin. It appeared to be a ship, with one word, or name, in an intricate formal font stretched above.

All Jared could see was the letters, M-A-and-T. Plenty of soldiers had tats; Jared had a few random, silly ones. Many of them had very specific stories to tell, some even becoming an "in memory of" piece. Jared wanted to move closer, to touch, to ask. But, really, he wanted to be able to wrap an arm around the hunched, broad shoulders, bringing that tight, muscular body into his side and...maybe bury his face in those burnishing locks of curious blond-coloring. They were a shade darker now, highlighted in shimmering reds. He hadn't had an instantaneous reaction to a man like this--well, ever.

Quickly, Jared spun to lean on his own forearm, interlocking his long fingers; he turned one wrist to look at his watch. "You gonna shower an' redress in your uniform?" He would give first dibs on that awesome master bath to Jensen.

"Nah, man...actually--" Jensen glanced down at his own watch on his left wrist. He used his stump to rearrange positioning. "There is a hair salon here, in the shopping mall area." He ran his hand over his hair, then own his stubble. "I need a trim, but...I think I'm gonna keep some of this beard. DeMorgan isn't too keen on a full military dress code, but, just so I don't feel like I'm at work, I like to look slightly different."

Jared pulled off his beanie, shaking out his flat, shaggy head of hair. "What 'bout me? What should I do? Get a trim, as well? Keep the hair long?" He stopped moving once he felt a bit dizzy. He didn't want to pitch himself over the railing, either, by accident.

Jensen turned a little, leaning only on his left arm. He narrowed his vision to scrutinize the appearance of the man before him. To be quite honest, he liked everything about Jared, right down to that over-long hair. It reminded Jensen of his baby brother. But, also, that untouchable group of men whom he naturally compartmentalized into anonymous sex or random one-night-stands, which he had done neither in a million years.

Weird, how he discovered he had garnered a "type" of sorts, right off the bat when he had chosen to stop fooling himself and playing the field, sowing wild oats; he wanted to become serious and intimately committed with one male lover. And that choice hadn't been as much a "type" but more of the person's persona; he'd fallen for the man, not the sex. Well, once he had the knowledge that the other man had the same feelings for him, then it was easy to shift gears. He had been made to work for, and work at, keeping that tight-knit relationship intact, as he was often deployed for duty, months on end, with only emails and then eventually handwritten letters to keep things flowing, and exciting. Luckily, he had an equal partner willing to sustain that momentum in much the same manner. And, then, per usual, the world was dissatisfied that Jensen Ackles had not only found happiness, but was relatively kept sane and stable, cruelly ripping away his heart right from his chest.

Instinctively, Jared stepped forward, nearing Jensen once he saw the swift changes of emotions cross over the face; he only wanted to hug, to embrace, but that strong-as-steel stump went right to his mid-chest to stop his progress. There was a tiny shake of the head to reject the smooth advance--like nobody would make the first moves without Jensen starting them. Silently, Jared conceded, though it truly hurt to deny the urge of simple "bro-ness", not even thinking of it as sexual or romantic.

Jensen raised his right arm to lift Jared's chin, then took the stump to sooth right to left jawline, as if he were giving a close-up inspection. There was a slow, almost painful, blink to those rich hazel eyes, coupled with a nervous swallow. God, Jensen wondered what Jared would do if he surprised him with a soft kiss tot he lips; he actually lock his own at the mere idea. But, then he pushed off the railing, taking Jared's dangling arms in his awkward hand-to-stump grasp to give him a look-see in one fell swoop, head to big toes.

"Eh...I think you'll do." Man, had Jared let out a huge relief of breath held? Like a tortured sigh? "But, yeah...trim the hair. They'll know best how it should look, if you explain you're an employee." The left hand came up and gently tugged, rubbing the silky-soft strands between fingerpads. "At least chin-length, 'kay?" At Jared's nod, Jensen went on...surprisingly not able to stop touching. Fingers smoothed over an unshaven right cheek toward the jaw, moving to the strong, jutting chin. "When you're normally 'off'...do you like a bit of scruff? Or do you shave all facial pubes?"

Jared sputtered out a hard laugh. "What?!"

Jensen joined in with a sly snicker, soothing his left hand over his own stubble. "You can do like I do---some variation of a goatee. Or do a small trim of the beard to erase the harder bristles." Then he just lazily shrugged both shoulders. "Or you could let it grow out, but not to ZZ-Top length...or Duck Dynasty. Got it?" He waggled a finger like a parent at Jared, who just chuckled with a nod.

At the mention of the "erasing of harder bristles", it left the topic open to ask if Jensen minded beard rash, but Jared held back, holding his jaw and chin. "I don't know. When I vacay, I like to let it loose. Everything. I don't watch what I eat. I'm active, but I don't exercise to a daily routine. I might shave one day, but then might not the next."

"This your first cruise?"

"Uh, not exactly. I have been a passenger on a few, but, nah, I've mostly done yachts like The Sea Swept, and, uhm...I did crew in the low decks on The Prince of the Seas, when I first came to DeMorgan. but I wasn't a purser. I started as a deckhand until they needed a warm body in stewarding."

Jensen nodded in complete understanding. "At DeMorgan, we all tend to become versatile in a bit of everything."

"Well, think about it...when we crew on a yacht, essentially it's similar, just on a small scale.."

"HELLOOO! HELLLLOOOOOO!!"

There was a sharp noise, like a hard clap, and then a strong, booming voice, from within the main cabin, echoing in to muffle out onto the balcony.

Damn! Jensen thought. It would no longer just be them. All that soon, he had forgotten about their arriving roommates; he went to move, to shuffle beyond the sheer curtain billowing in the encroaching mid-afternoon breeze, which blocked them both from sight, but Jared clamped down on Jensen's shoulder.

"No. Stay here. Don't move a step. I got this. You'll need this peace before we dare to enter the fray."

From that mandatory meeting they'd been at from 2:30 to 3:45pm, they and Alona had newly discovered that when they would get into the first hours or so of their shifts, they would already be heading into chaos ensuing; some employees had already been on-board The Contessa since the crack of dawn. The Contessa would setting sail at approximately 9pm, a half-hour after the second dinner bell commenced and right when most of the late night events were about to begin. Not being her maiden voyage, this first sail was being treated rather casually, as if she had been doing this route for years; the send-off would be clam, rather glum as most of the VIP passenger didn't have family or, they were already on board the ship.

"--but, we haven't figured out the beds--uh...the sleeping arrangements."

Jared waved the thought away. "Obviously, you get the one in here. I'll just arm wrestle with the other guys for the beds in the second room, next door."

Jensen had peeked; there had been two Twin beds and a "cot"--the "cot" being a folded spring mattress that looked Twin-sized. Somehow, Jensen already guessed there would be bigger issues to face with their roommates, and bed assignments would be that teeny-tiny stick of dynamite that could potentially ruin the whole cruise for everybody. Even the party-poopers.

"Stay, right here, and, uh...I saw a wet bar, and a mini-fridge. What's your poison, Officer Ackles?"

Jensen didn't know why, but he felt himself melting inward at the thought of someone thinking of him, wanting to care for him without asking. "Not right now, Jared. Thanks." He relaxed back on his elbows. "I'll try to bask a few minutes more, then I'll go shower, first." Jensen knew it'd be awhile before Jared could have a fair decision made about beds in the other room.

"Good, then I will surely try to figure out what to do, or what will eventually happen. Hopefully, we all get along." Jared raised both eyebrows in shock, then rolled his eyes in sarcasm.

"--yeah, hopefully." Jensen averted his head, donning his shades to gaze out on the blue waters.

Jared found that the chance to handle the bed arrangements went sour, fast.

Officer Richard "Rick" Wakefield--the former S&T purser--was not agreeable to anything Jared put on offer, unless it would allow him a Twin bed for himself. Daniel Shannon, the DeMorgan deckhand/engineer, really didn't care much, but he grew even more quiet once he spotted the "cot" in the corner. Daniel's working hours would never mesh with the rest of the three, so he deserved the first Twin bed. With Jensen already taking the bed in the main room, the leftover Twin was up for grabs, and the rickety "cot", who, even folded, didn't look "Twin-like" for an Adult at all, but more of a kid-sized Twin.

Even though Rick could see Jared was 6-ft-4, plain as day, he didn't understand the common sense of Jared getting the second Twin. All he thought was, "take the 'cot', or bunk with that Ackles dude". Rick proclaimed, rather emphatically, he wasn't going to "be all HOMO" and dare to sleep next to another guy. Nor did he seem real inclined to sacrifice his smaller stature to the terrible "cot".

Jared had an idea to make a call down to the Check-In desk, to see if he could find a replacement couch for the one in Jensen's suite; it would be a sofa bed conversion. Even when Jared claimed he was calling from an employee's cabin, there was still a "we will get back to you when we get back to you" attitude, to which, he contemplated, for a second, to name-drop, starting with Jensen.

But once Jared was done discussing the bed issue with the two roommates, he had returned to find the main room empty; Jensen must not have wanted to put himself in the middle of that petty squabble, and just exited to start his rounds.

Jared found a note from Jensen :

"Sounds like you got it covered. I need to start on my primping. There's a Captain's Cocktail Hour I have to get to. If you'd like to show up, it's at 5:30pm, in the Captain's suite. The Tea Room, I'm sure. I found a map of The Contessa in our binder, so don't use the one they give out to passengers in this room. See you at 1730hrs, or at dinner. You'll be seated with me, at my table, for the next two weeks. ~J."

Jared read it, then re-read it twice again, maybe because he found the handwriting put him in a giddy trance. It was shockingly legible; it almost spoke of the man it belonged to: bold, strong and showing a hint of intelligence.

Rick hadn't bothered with a full shower; he took a sink bath, then slapped on some kind of cheap, lemony cologne. He had changed into his DeMorgan uniform Whites. Daniel had gotten ready for bed; he would begin a graveyard shift sometime after second bell dinner, and when all that fine entertainment was about to start.

Jared took a good, long shower, spying that married couple bathtub. He dressed in his Whites, deciding to carry his visor cap with him, so he wouldn't give himself unneeded hat-hair. He didn't bother blow-drying as he had finally decided to stop by that beauty salon Jensen had mentioned, but he would first walk down to the main lobby, to go to the Check-In desk. He wanted to make a face-to-face request about the trade up from "cot" to sofa bed.

When he exited the bath, he knocked on the connecting door to the second room, finding only Daniel around. "Hey, man...I'm gonna put in a supper order for you, to come to the room about the time you've set your alarm to go off."

"oh!...cool. We can do that?"

Jared smiled, nodding his slicked-back head. "It's in our binder--the DeMorgan Bible." They shared a laugh and a deep chuckle; at least one of their roommates was easy to get along with. "Is Rick still here?" He looked about, noticing that there had always been a second Exit door that Daniel was now pointing at.

"I think he's off to start finding a date...or dates. Seemed eager to leave and start, uh...cruising, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, I do. Okay, well...if I do come back at all, while you're sleeping, I think I'll move my things in here. I'll bring the cot, too, that way I won't disturb either of you guys, if I can get that sofa bed replacement."

"Oh, yeah, yeah...great. Awesome. I sleep like a log, by the way, so you wouldn't disturb me too much." Daniel showed Jared his ear plugs. "Plus, I bring these along to keep my ears from popping, and it helps my nausea symptoms. And, it does put a full-stop to an annoying snore from a bunkmate." He gestured to the other Twin bed, where Rick's clothes were strewn out, all over his bags, with no rhyme or reason, questionable whether they were clean, as well.

"Then, hey..." Jared put down his visor cap. "Why don't I just...take the cot now. That way I'll only have to make one trip to grab the last of my stuff." He and Daniel worked to wedge out the cot, finding it eventually rolled easily on the thin carpeting.

Daniel made a wild grab for the door when it almost self-closed on Jared. "Whoa! You okay?!" He hoped Jared hadn't gotten swacked when the hinges retracted.

Jared snickered, because he had received a solid slap to his backside. "Yeah...it's all good. Have a great sleep, man. I'll put in your dinner request, 'kay?"

"Thanks again. Appreciate it. Saves me from raidin' the mini-fridge and hording the bar nuts."

"--'night."

"G'night, Jared." Daniel let the door shut and latch automatically.

Jared left the cot in a faraway corner, moving the lightweight furniture around to create space for either unfolding the cot, or for the sofa bed. He found his own binder, grabbed his credentials, pinned on his badge, then swiped up the keys on his lanyard; he'd pocket them before putting them around his neck. He set the first page open of the binder, where the map of the ship was, so he could take sequential close-up pictures on his Smartphone; each of the floors, or decks, of the ship had a different photograph taken. It would be easier for him rather than carrying around several pages of drawn diagrams.

First, he had to find the front foyer, which would lead him right to the main lobby to locate Check-In. He was already bumping into some fellow crew members, noticing the differences in DeMorgan uniforms, even when it came to what deck they worked on. He was stunned by the fairly early arrivals of some of the VIP passengers--DeMorgan's upper echelon clientèle--or their family members; they were used to preferential treatment, being able to board hours whenever the hell they wanted, before everyone else.

Jared managed to find an available, helpful-looking clerk; he approached slowly with a wide, friendly smile.

Jensen was already feeling the ache of a face that had been forced to keep smiling; he was almost nearing a tension headache. He self-consciously touched his right arm, letting his left hand palm over the folded-back sleeve, putting on full display his handicap. He wasn't sure why he had left the room without his prosthesis, but, something...or, someone, had given him the urge to be bolder, a little braver. To stop pretending, or faking, he had a real hand, to make THEM feel better. Trouble was, the fakeness had become such a crutch for him, he actually felt a bit sick being left so bare, so naked. So...vulnerable.

In true reality, nobody had ever been so disgusted or outraged. In Jensen's mind, reality had always been skewed.

Jensen was wandering around--visor cap in place--in his uniform Whites, carrying his suit's jacket; the right lapel was decorated for his services both as Reserves Master Chief Petty Officer and as a Retired Master Sergeant of the 432nd Army division. Though nervous and slightly tense, while conversing with pursers-in-training and two of Alona's activity directors, Jensen was excited to let his gaze pan the open foyer to main lobby, then personal interest had him spotting a tall masculine frame bent over, where there was a delightful view of a well-shaped bottom. But it was encased in a similar pair of white suit pants, like most of DeMorgan's employees. He didn't want to become entranced by another male; actually, he had been missing Jared, wishing that was...

...and that man WAS Jared.

The man who had his back turned, with ass skyward, was now slowly swiveling to reveal his front view. The females around Jensen showed their appreciation, and soon, he felt he had to pull back in his initial emotions--not only for what Jared had stirred, but the sudden sensation of needing to protect Jared from wandering, salivating eyes. There was a ridiculous inner entitlement mantra wanting to bellow, "mine! I was there first! mine! He's mine!".

And, then, stupidly, Jared leaned back on the marbled counter, appearing to only have eyes for the green ones staring back at him. And Jensen forgot he had changed his appearance a bit.

The hair was much shorter, down the sides, and in the back, but now it was disguised by the cap. Blond fuzz coated the long nape, which still itched from the electric shears. Gone was much of the stubble, too; some sideburns were left, a bit past the ear, hued a dark red-blond, along with a similar colored 'stache with chin-stubble.

Jared smiled, giving a 'thumbs-up", then ended with a wink.

Every single head volleyed from Jared back to Jensen, making Jensen have to respectfully tip his cap to the new employees, then politely excuse himself to walk over to Jared.

The cheeky grin should've appeared smarmy, but on Jared, Jensen found it utterly wicked, playful. It certainly could deserve some strong-willed discipline dealt out.

Shit, man!! Like the guy needed to do more in order to steal his breath away harder.

In uniform Whites, all decked out in a snazzy new do and shave, Officer Jensen Ackles was an unnatural beauty that left both sexes speechless. With Jared, there was an added round of heart palpitations, with some slight stirring down yonder. Luckily, it would take more than this for Jared to spring fully into action, causing himself much embarrassment; instead, he was simply warm all over, and probably flushed in his cheeks. He felt a bit self-conscious, turning back to face the counter.

"Hey...problem?"

Jared leaned over, left elbow on the counter top, where he could rest his chin to wait. Yeah...you're too beautiful for public consumption. "Nah, just a slight change in beds."

"oh." Jensen placed his jacket on the counter, peering over, too. "How's the service been?" He wondered why there was a hold-up-and-wait for an employee. And why did Jared have to come down to Check-In when a phone call would've done the trick?

"Service is great. But they seem to be all out of sofa beds. Plenty of cots, though, but every sofa bed has a room already."

"soooo...why not just find an empty room and bring up that sofa bed?"

Jared snapped his fingers in an "aha!" moment, but then frowned. "That's where we are now. I could sleep on the cot--one or two nights. The regular couch looks comfy, in the room, but, uh..."

Jensen shook his head, knowing he should've stepped in to save Jared. "Don't be so fuckin' sweet and nice, Officer Padalecki. Why did you get left taking the cot? Couldn't either of our roomies notice you're still a growin' boy?"

Jared softly chuckled, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Daniel is a sweetheart; you'll like him. AND he pulls graveyard. AND he's missin' his young wife, an' little kids. First time he's been away from them. I couldn't rightfully allow him to suffer on that cot."

"And the Other?" Jensen almost knew what had happened.

"He's what we thought he'd be. An S&T drone. I think he might need to be monitored, in all honesty. Or at least watched a bit closer by another purser who does shift work with him. He's already 'on the prowl'. Left Daniel and I in the lurch, like he had a hot date waiting for him. He's a cookie-cutter Romeo. Oh, and...when the idea to share your bed came up, he 'quote'...didn't wanna appear like no HOMO...'unquote'. So, there's THAT."

"Fabulous."

"So great." Jared gave out a weak smile. "I didn't even bother to say a thing about me, or us. It's down-low, for now."

Jensen averted his head, shrugging one shoulder. "Maybe it's better that way. Keep him in the dark. We probably won't ever see him. Tomcats like him prowl at all hours, never go to sleep, or they sleep in other people's rooms. Employee...or a cruise guest--I even knew of a main crew member who fell for one...a Cruise Director's assistant..."

"To keep the peace, let's allow him to have his bone, or he'll continue to growl. He thinks he 'won' over me. He left an' I got stuck with the cot."

Jensen shook his head in disagreement. He picked up his jacket, then spun Jared around to walk with him. "No, you didn't. You won't sleep one night in that cot. It's a wider Queen mattress than typical, Jared. You'll be more comfortable, not to mention well-rested, if you share the bed with me."

Jared nearly visibly shook at the image. "Sleep with you, you mean?"

"Well, not in THAT way, but yeah. We're not...neither of us is the type of male predator who pounces. Bed is a bed; sleep is sleep."

"Bed is not sex; sleep is not sex."

"Exactly."

Jared glanced over his shoulder, noticing the clerk had probably gotten sucked into a vortex or slipped into a black hole outside the universe--meaning, they weren't coming back anytime soon. "uh, it's not too, uhm...HO-MO, for you?"

Jensen snorted, then grunted his disapproval as he shoved Jared ahead of him. "March on, soldier! There's a beauty salon in your future."

It was nice--this camaraderie. This ease of companionship.

Both men hoped they didn't do something idiotic to fuck it all up.

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

For the second time, in the same hour, Jensen was seated in a chair in the ship's beauty salon. It was a little disturbing how many DeMorgan employees he could spot, already here to prepare for their shifts or to whatever event they would be off to later tonight, be it at either of the dinner bells or at an entertainment event, later tonight.

At 5:15, Jensen had given Roberta, or "Robbie", a heads-up that Jared would soon need to be unshackled from her chair; she and another female stylist were the only two on-board who knew how to cut-n-shape men's hair. At 5:03, Jensen had a trashy gossip magazine spread over his legs, where his left ankle crossed over right knee; he would lean on his right elbow, off the armrest, trying not to clock-watch, or Jared-watch, like some obsessive person.

No matter what had been said or done, to Jensen, it still managed to feel like Jared was "his", as the fascinated clutter of stylists converged, handing Jared back over, like he was some prized calf at a state fair. Thing was, Jared not only knew how to properly stand, while in uniform, he also knew how to subtly flaunt his assets the best he could, under watchful eyes. There was some giggling and snickering as he was pushed forward, Jared standing at formal Parade rest, again, in front of him; Jared's visor cap was tucked under his right arm.

"Well...how does he look, Officer Ackles?"

Jensen slid the glossy mag off his lap, closing the pages one-handed, snatching up his jacket. "oh, he'll do quite nicely, Ladies." He put on his own cap, tipping the brim to wink at Robbie. "Thanks, Robbie." Jensen reached for some loose bills to "tip", but Jared chopped a hand over the wrist.

"I took care of it." Jared donned his cap, then patted the grabby-hands still on his body. "Take care, Ladies." But for Robbie, he gave her a double-kiss, one for each cheek. "Bless you, Robbie. I'll see ya soon. Let's have dinner, sometime, yeah?"

Robbie soothed over the tall, broad back, feeling shy from all the male attention. "You know it, sailor. But, maybe closer to my days off, like the weekend."

"Good, so...shall we get the Fool's Parade started, in our monkey suits, lookin' all bright, shiny and new?" Jared tipped his cap, swiveling before he noticed a single swoon in his wake.

Jensen witnessed, felt like he should swoon, himself. Instead, he rolled his eyes at Robbie, returning a "knowing" wink of having the secret knowledge of where Jensen's attractions truly fell. He trailed behind Jared, not even realizing he still had his own set of admirers watching him closely. Jensen only needed a few steps to catch-up as Jared had stopped to pause in the small mall and shopping area; he looked up, and up, and up, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.

"What? What is it?"

"It's just...it's been years--probably decades--since I've been on a cruise. And back then, it felt like I was simply on a boat, moving along choppy waters; I may have spent most of my time in the cabin bunkbed, because the sea-sickness pills had an adverse reaction. But, everything seemed put-on...fake, almost. This is--I didn't have a chance to soak up these decks while on The Prince, but this is..." He pointed toward the center atrium where a glass ceiling to a food court displayed the late evening sky. "It's like we're on a floating planet. Like we could be the last survivors to the end of the world, but, yet, we have every little thing we could want, right at our fingertips."

Jensen butted his right shoulder with Jared's side, starting them to slow-walk; they would need to go up a few floors--decks--so they could locate Captain's quarters. "Why do you think I love this kind of life so much? A, literal, home away from home, but, it's a small town away from a small town, more like it."

Jared stretched out his paces, allowing their steps to match. He had no idea to the impressive, and quietly intimidating, sight they both had become, in so few hours. Handsome, buffed and cleaned up, wearing their DeMorgan uniform Whites. For them, they were only mesmerized by the other, only wishing to walk and converse, get to know one another better. "Okay, so...may I ask--why?"

"Why--what?" Jensen cleared his throat as he held his right arm closer to his side. "Why do I like this job? Or, why do I--?"

"Tit for tat."

"...huh?"

"I tell you a rare known Jared-fact, then, in kind, you tell me a lesser known Jensen-fact. And, I'm not lookin' for you to divulge deep, dark-scary family secrets, but--I think we will be spending tons of time together, like this, and we should utilize the moments wisely. Plus, what better way to Get to Know Your Enemy to then know how to defeat him?"

Jensen's body barely brushed Jared's side. "You're not, though. You never were an enemy. I don't see us as adversaries."

"yeah, yeah...we bring different vibes to the job we both want, so...that still pits us on opposite sides. Makes us...Rivals, at least."

Jensen didn't want tension or stress between them. "Can we just forget that? For right now, and for the rest of the cruise?"

They were heading toward a wide bay of opulent glass and gold-plated elevators.

Jared gave out a small nod, pressing the Up-arrow button. "I'd like that." He liked how they could stand side by side, in silence, but still feel some pulsations, like a tangible essence permeating between them. "It would sure make bedtime more enjoyable, easier to handle."

Jensen felt a blush enter his face as he watched the passengers approaching. He hoped they hadn't heard, but, then again, it was a blanket statement, having no proper context. To them, it could mean anything between the two men.

When the elevator arrived, both of them let it go to the passengers, watching the box shoot down. They had waited a beat or two, then re-pressed the Up button. If they kept being this professional, this damn polite, this would be a long-ass ride.

"Maybe we should consider taking the stairs. I believe we only need to go up one more floor."

"It's two, actually. I forgot to mention the Captain changed tonight's cocktail hour, just this once. It'll be in his quarters, not the Tea Room."

An elevator binged at the exact moment they would've given up; employees piled off, then Jared and Jensen hopped on. Jared kept pushing the Upper/Top deck button, or The Bridge, like he wanted to break a world record.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. "It won't go any faster, Jared, no matter how often you hit the button."

"I know, but the doors will close sooner. I can't wait much longer."

Jensen squinted over at Jared's side profile, shadowed by the wide brim of his cap. "You okay? You're not nervous, are you?" He felt bad because he hadn't sensed the sudden change.

"No, I..." Jared folded his arms, tucking his hands inward. "--I don't know what I feel. I'm always a little...jumpy, or twitchy. Caught on the fence of being stressed, yet excited. I haven't met with, or dined with, a real Captain since I was, uh...in my tween years. Probably just prior to my balls droppin'."

Just then, the elevator stopped and shimmied in suspension. The doors slid wide as they stepped off together.

Jensen could finally laugh outright as he shook out his jacket, then put in his left arm, first; he had to pause for a minute, undoing the folded shirt sleeve, tuck the shirt sleeve into the coat sleeve, then fold it all back, reattaching the fabric clip.

Jared was mesmerized, waiting to help Jensen at any point. "I meant to ask...where's The Hand?"

Jensen grinned, giving a subtle shrug. "Here, on The Contessa, I'm always going to be amongst family, people who know me. After five years, I think it's overkill. I can't 'baby' every stranger I meet."

At least, once Jensen had stopped shimmying his jacket to adjust over his torso, Jared could step in, fix the collars, make sure all material wasn't wrinkled or caught-up on a snag; he could even help button the jacket, if Jensen wanted. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you HAD to stop wearing it."

"You didn't. It was time, tha's all. It is tougher--tougher than I had thought, but I have to keep adjusting. That particular prosthesis won't last me forever."

"Should we go in wearing our caps? Or should we, uh...pull them off, be at attention?"

Jensen shook his head, smiling wide. "He's not a military captain, so, no. But...hey, if you feel like it, I won't stop you."

"eh, maybe you should go in first."

"Maybe..." Jensen reached out to spruce up Jared's shirt, fixing the collar, brushing away loose hairs and fuzz. He chucked under the clean-shaven chin. "Chin up, Officer Padalecki, this is gonna be cake walk." He knocked, then patiently waited for the door to be opened for them to gain entrance.

  


Jared had left the cocktail hour a little early, and a lot wiser. He hadn't wanted to make that early of an exit, because he had felt he would be needed, or, like he had needed to be there for Jensen, to support him.

Unknown to anyone, the old First Mate of The Contessa had come on-board.

Right away, Jared had gone toward Jensen's side, knowing he'd give of himself, whatever Jensen wanted, until he was pushed away. No one had expected First Mate Cameron Derrick to take part in the new re-vamping of his ex-ship. Mainly because he had some rather dire real life crisis building, keeping him from signing permanent contracts with DeMorgan; he had had too cushy of a job with Speight & Townsend that when he would transfer to DeMorgan, he feared none of his efforts would grandfather in. He had claimed feeling forced--pressured by everyone, even his own co-workers--to sign his life away, when he had no idea if he'd even have a home to return to, much less a family.

While Officer Derrick, or "Derry" to his S&T employees, thought he could patiently wait this out, DeMorgan had moved on, reopening The Contessa's First Mate position to new applicants. Things had gone full-blast into the old captain retiring, First Mate Welling being promoted to Captain and then this would allow Jensen, or one of the others applying, to impress those DeMorgan CEOs who would be influential in deciding who finally took the role.

Soon, Jared had realized Jensen was no longer front-runner; he had a true competitor, and Jared's ability to outshine either experienced man dwindled right before his eyes. He had been willing to consider stepping back for Jensen, but knowing, and having met, this Officer Derrick, he had wanted to place himself back in the race again. But he couldn't bad-mouth Jensen; if Jared had to lose, he would only concede to Jensen. The other employees vying for the slot had never registered as competitors in his sights; they had less time at DeMorgan, and had no experience in sailing or boating, like he and Jensen, or this "Derry" guy.

What an asshole move! And a complete suck-up! One could only watch one grown man kiss the asses of other grown men for so long before it would become old, real quick.

Jared had felt even worse for Jensen, who had appeared to have retracted under his private shell, the longer Derry kept talking. First Mate Welling had seen Jensen in distress-mode, having pulled him aside to explain, and that had been when Jared took his own initiative to seek out a few passengers who had cordially been invited to the Captain's quarters. Jared had seated himself, nursing an actual cocktail, instead of beer, when he felt, then spotted, a curious pair of wandering eyes on him. He had thought it best to start introductions; the elderly man seemed harmless.

"Hello..." Jared had held out his hand on offer to shake. "Chief Petty officer Jared Padalecki, of the US Coast Guard. I'm one of the pursers on this cruise. I work with Officer Ackles."

"mmm--awful formal, boy. I'm not so old that I can't notice that blindingly huge badge you're wearing." Bifocals had been low on the beak of a nose, while a cob pipe dangled off one side of the mouth; he had really been using it to smoke, not just "for show".

Instantly, Jared had sensed he should know this old guy.

"Don't bother, son, you'll only hurt yourself." Once Jared had ended his sputtering a laugh, the offered hand had been taken. "You know the man you work for?"

"Yes, not personally."

"Hehehe, keep it that way. Some call 'im a snake in the grass. A real viper. Others say he's like the Devil incarnate." He had released Jared's hand, sitting back in the corner of the chesterfield, fixing his pipe, then had gone on, "I jus' call 'im...nephew..."

Jared had nodded his head, a name coming to mind. "Uncle Brennan. I do know OF you, apart from work--Admiral Brennan James-Perry. My father and brother have read your books. Even the military manuals."

"oh, pish-posh. Nobody likes a suck-up."

Jared had attempted, very hard, to not adore the gruff old man; he had kept reminding him of his paternal grandfather. Also, the better parts of his own father, The Brigadier. Jared liked the soft lilt of an accent--a little British, with a dash of American cockiness. "I grew up on those books, too. They were always around. I even used one in my room to boost up my TV set."

The Admiral had paused before he had lost himself in chuckles; a few stunned faces had turned in disbelief to catch sight of the old man losing his usual cool. "Now THAT, I do believe. They were thick, useless and boring monstrosities, much like the committee who oversaw their editing. I would write all my notes, separate from my colleagues. I would have my young assistant type out my scribbles, then mail packets to the book publisher. Do you recall them?"

"Whom?"

"Books! None of this technology bull-cocky! Honest-to-Living-God books made in factories, with string, and glues, and actual hand-made papers with print-pressed words. Oh, gosh..." The Admiral sighed in sheer ecstasy. "eh, this floating palace has the audacity to have a library. I do think they have my books--the fiction, that is. None of 'em are on those doohickey i-Pee-thingamajigs."

Jared had nearly shot liquor out his nostrils, but he had caught himself in time. "...iPads, sir...the youngsters call 'em iPads."

"yes, yes, they do. So--" The Admiral had taken his pipe in a hard grip, then blinked to glance over at Jensen. "--you like this Ackles boy?"

Jared had gone still, not sure he would be "safe" here; could he be unabashedly honest and authentic? He had loved Grandpa Padalecki, and their personal talks while spending time together had often been the highlights of his younger days. "I do. Like him. And that is me, not being a suck-up. People keep saying we should be enemies, but...uh...tha's kind of tough when we're both so alike."

"How so?" One eye had squinted at Jared.

"Our military backgrounds, for one. How we served our tours of duty in the Army, but the Army never became our passion in life. We both found that in the Coast Guard. And, now--" Jared had used a hand to gesture all around him.

"And now, both of you are here, and finding yourselves after the same job."

"ah, so you know 'bout that."

"I talk to Jeffrey Dean as often as I can. I learned about the interest in Speight & Townsend. I think Speight Jr tends to always feed massive bullshit to anyone who'll listen. So, this ship...The Contessa...I felt saddened for her. She didn't deserve what she barely got from Speight--a glorified hotel on a wee boat. I had talked it over with Jeffrey Dean, to the point where I had convinced him to give Her another shot at stardom..." He put his arms out to showcase the room, like he was owed a pat on the back for her eventual comeback.

Jared had smirked. "You sound like Jensen."

The Admiral had allowed Jared's words to register in his brain, then eyed Jared's bodily reaction to Jensen's name. "Yes, well...that boy an' I have gotten close. I barely knew he existed 'til 3yrs ago."

"What happened 3yrs ago?" Jared had suddenly been confused, a little flustered.

The Admiral patted his right arm, then brought out a hidden cane to tap his left leg and foot. "I had this leg shattered in combat, from knee to calf. Foot was shredded, barely hanging on, little to no toes left...no bone, only steel rod with screws for joints."

"yeah, yeah--yes, of course...I had forgotten. For both of you."

Gray eyebrows had furrowed, while pale eyes had narrowed in interest. "You don't really know, do you?"

"What?"

"Who that boy you say you like really is?"

Jared had been struck silent, unsure how to respond. "uh, nope, but...I was hoping to ease into that while working with him on this cruise."

"Take it from me, son, you'd barely crack the surface with a carefree attitude like that." The Admiral had seated himself a little forward, leaning toward Jared. "But I'll handshake a deal with you. I will hand over some preliminary details--enough to appease your eager, youthful curiosity...if you walk over to that table, and snag a plate-full of some sweet and properly fattening appetizers."

Jared had taken the easy handshake, thinking it a fair trade as he had risen from his chair to move over to the array of catered foods, and prepared drinks. Little had he known just what he had bartered away dietary covert-ops for.

  


Jensen wasn't sure what to expect when he returned to the cabin, before he got a little bit more dressed for dinner. He wouldn't have to add much, maybe a change of shirt, add a dark tie--blue or black. He was glad he had sent Jared back, ahead of him, so he could regroup and breathe freely. He had to prove to Jared he was fine, even better after Tommy had pulled him aside, trying to smooth out the rough patches. Everyone had been caught off guard, and Cameron Derrick hadn't shown one ounce of guilt or remorse. To him, once Tommy was promoted, he would simply slip back into his old job.

And why not? To hear of Cameron Derrick's military experience, the man had already had a naval command under the role of "Captain"; it had been brief, having Derrick take a demotion in rank, but he eventually found reprieve with Speight & Townsend as their First Mate aboard their various brands. Officer Derrick was good, if not better prepared for taking The Contessa's helm; he could even one day become her Captain.

Jensen had tried to be fair, to be lenient, to understand the hardship and take a step back; he would have to let their resumes and histories speak for themselves. The Captain would never speak Ill of his ex-First Mate; he was merely stunned silent that Derrick's problems at home had quickly been fixed, constituting this hurried arrival. No one had been more surprised than him.

But even with all this silent approval, Jensen still could not shake that this whole situation was wrong, that JD Morgan could possibly be totally oblivious to what had happened. Jensen had the latest crew member roster on his desk, and Officer Derrick had been no where on it. Jensen considered calling JD, on his own time, but hadn't wanted to appear like he was becoming petty and cynical, like he was attempting to ruin this new competitor for the job. So, during dinner, Jensen would politely request that Tommy or the Captain could do him a favor, simply to be assured this change was real, and permanent. Otherwise Jensen knew he'd go batshit, allowing this to fester inside to ruin the entire cruise.

He slipped the keycard into the lock, waited to get a green light, then he turned the knob. He walked in on Jared unpacking, filling up the right side of the dual closet. They met in the tiny hallway.

"Hope you don't mind." Jared pointed to where he had hung all of Jensen's suits and button-down shirts. "I, also, put away your things in the dresser. You have the left side, all four drawers."

"oh, jeez, thanks, man. You didn't have to--" Jensen watched as Jared backed himself to lay flat to the wall, so the door could shut as he passed him. Having both of their tall, muscular frames in the smaller space felt claustrophobic.

"C'mon, get in all the way. They don't build these cabins for men like us in mind."

Jensen appreciated the light humor in the tease, the chance to act normal, to forget reality. He wasn't sure either was possible. "M'sorry. Making you leave when I knew it was in you to stay and, uh...be there with me once I had let it sink in."

"And?" Jared put up the last of his own shirts, sliding the door shut; he carried the empty bag with him.

Jensen sighed as he sat heavy on the bed, kicking off his shoes to roll his toes, cracking the tiny bones. He unbuttoned, then wormed his way out of the suit jacket. He had felt a difference in the air; something had shifted, or changed, in this room, while he'd been gone. "uh, well...I deeply appreciated Tommy drawing me away, before I freaked the fuck out."

Jared snorted, nodding in agreement. "Tell me 'bout it. I was halfway there myself." He tucked the empty bag away in his Army duffel.

"Was it only me, or did you, too, get a weird vibe off this Derrick guy?"

Nodding his head, Jared gave off a broad smile. "It wasn't only you. And it wasn't only me. Uncle Brennan said much the same thing as us."

Jensen released a genuine smile for the first time in a very long hour. "I'll bet. Saw the two of you--talking. Do you wish he'd adopt you, yet?"

Jared laughed outright. "He reminded me of my own grandfather--on my father's side. He was retired military, too, but never sought a higher rank out of Infantry division, like the Brigadier did."

"I'm sorry...who is that?" Jensen paused in undressing, perplexed by the familiar rank.

"...Brigadier General Gerald Padalecki...my father. We lovingly call him 'The Brigadier'. He always liked it better that way."

"Not much of a father?"

"...or a human being. He had a military routine for every part of life. My older brother, Jeff, and I were his own little soldiers."

Jensen resumed untucking to unbutton his shirt, one-handed, as he nodded slowly. "Odd how I found boot camp kind of like 'home'. Someone actually gave a shit about me, where I was, what I was doing, kept me in line."

Jared gave out a soft smile. "For me, boot camp was weirdly soothing. They were less strict than it had been for me at home."

They both seemed to take one another's backgrounds in just as known facts, and they didn't need commentary added.

Jared had noticed Jensen shiver a bit, like a chill went down his spine. "What? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Hearing you call your father by his rank, rather than, say, 'Dad'...and you aren't even mildly joking when it slips past your tongue--it's just...it makes me see more similarities between us. I may not have much emotion toward the man who raised me, but I still call him 'Dad'..."

"eh, things are different these days. He allows us to slip, occasionally, but Jeff an' I are so used to it. Hard habit to break."

"Is HE why you want this job?"

Jared shook his head, at first, then he stopped to reconsider. "Well, yes and no...but not for a reason you'd think."

"And what reason would I be thinkin'?"

Jared wobbled an index finger at Jensen. "ohhhh--no--no...nope! Remember? Tit for tat? I'm not baring my soul for you while you sit over there completely silent."

Jensen sighed heavy, almost hanging his head far enough for chin to meet chest. "--I know...I know. This is difficult for me. A lot of things are, not just, uh--this, with you. But...feeling vulnerable again. Like, if I allow you to get in too far..."

"--the harder I will let you down..."

"We're men. We're gay men, but we are still male DNA to our core. We only reveal this kind of stuff to our Bros...a close family member, or an intimate lover. Still worse, we are military bred. Not only have we had to hide ourselves, but every secret much of the world will never know. We've seen and done traumatic and vicious deeds that many don't survive from. Only us...you an' I...we know what this means."

Jared nodded in total agreement, finding himself aching to voice profoundly how he really felt. He paced to the bedside Jensen sat on, drawing up his left leg, bent at the knee, as he stationed himself on Jensen's right to face him. He wanted so badly to admit what he knew now, then keep hold of Jensen, forever. He made a grab for the right of the open collar of the shirt, showing Jensen he wanted to ease him out of the long-sleeved button-down. Jared yanked, while Jensen shifted forward, pulling his right arm out of the sleeve. Jensen let the limb rest, bare, roughly-healed stump on a flattened thigh.

Jared tapped a finger on the blurred tattoo. "What's this?" Now, with flesh made bare, he could read the word, "MATHOS", then an inscribed date. The very day of Jensen's brush with death.

"It...is the reason I have this stump, instead of a hand." Jensen kept his head bowed, feeling a gentle hand cup his nape, then begin to massage his scalp. He spied Jared's right hand soothe down the partial forearm to encompass the amputated area. It tingled, barely, proving how deadened the skin and tissue had become over the years. "Shit...you know--I knew better than to leave you alone too long with that crazy old coot, talkin' your ear off."

Jared sniffled out a chuckle. "It's okay. I only hero worship you a little, but...I guess I'm more humbled, then saddened that you felt you couldn't confess this to me, on your own."

"I am alumni from the Academy. Not only am I in their memorabilia case, but there is a street an' a building named after me."

"Yup...depending on their age, if they knew you before or after, you're either a rock star or a legend. That rescue you and your crew ran to was atypical, but, man...you sure left an indelible mark."

"Left one on me, too." Jensen held out his right arm.

Jared brushed the back of his fingers over the picture in the tattoo. "This is the oil tanker, right? And...MATHOS is?" He took a huge gulp of air, bearing down his emotions.

"That was the only name he'd give me."

"Possible illegal?"

"Most likely. It seemed moot when we were trapped, and sinking. I did everything I could to keep him alert and conscious, but he was already fading when I found him. Once I knew I couldn't save him, only myself--when I knew my colleagues had radioed that airlift for both of us...I couldn't--wouldn't--leave his side."

Jared closed his eyes, leaning forward to press his forehead to Jensen's shoulder. Jared's left arm embraced him as Jensen rattled on, voice turning whisper-soft.

"...nobody deserves to die alone, man...no one--so, I stayed 'till I could no longer feel a pulse. He went pale blue almost instantly. As I got him as comfortable as I could, to leave him, floating out to dive down again, planning to meet my crew the way I had come in...something happened...my moving...a current of water outside, but the ship sunk more to the left, everything not bolted down came down on me, and I was..."

"--yeah, yeah... I recall. It all caved in on a slow roll. Now you were pinned and couldn't get out."

"And I was underwater, so I couldn't use my radio or shout my location."

"Shit..." Jared didn't have to imagine the vision Jensen described. A Coast Guard training video had re-enacted every detail the incident report had recorded, from all eyewitnesses, except for Jensen; they hadn't wanted him to shed a bad light on such a heroic mission.

"Talk about dumb luck, huh?" Jensen snorted, reaching with his left hand to hook around Jared's arm. "It took me awhile to get my bearings, to remember some of my training. Of course I panicked. Of course I freaked out. I have no recollection of when I exactly lost feeling in my hand, or when the disconnect happened. I only knew I had to find a pipe or something, where I could pound out noise along a wall."

"Like Morse code."

"Or any loud sound so the sonar might pick it up, if plain ears didn't. Sometimes I could barley tap out coherent code words, but, other times I just slammed the wall near me until I tired myself out. It was a bit longer until they found me...a thermal reading of the last warm body alive, radiating heat..."

"Jesus, an' by then..." Jared now cupped the entire stump in his right hand, rough palm to the surface. "Was your hand still there, you just couldn't feel it?"

"Nah...it was the only way to cut me loose. They tried everything and the ship creaked like it had before, as if it was going to roll again. So, my good friend, a fellow officer, Ansel Lidwitch, or 'Liddy'...he had to do the deed--crudely saw it off..."

"Oh, dear god...he must've been..."

"Devastated. More than I had been at the time. I was in and out of consciousness. He ended up leaving the guard, had to go into therapy." Jensen have a slight shrug. "It's why I refuse to see anything I did that day as remotely heroic. Mathos died, and Liddy entered a manic stage of depression he can still barely come back from. I was only last man out, my own crew had to save my sorry ass...an' They kept pinning medals on me, using my 'face' as their ideal of an American Hero. It nearly drowned me a second time; it was too much to bear. So, Dani found me this job for DeMorgan, where I was able to truly get away and heal, little by little."

Jared simply pressed his lips against the soft cotton t-shirt over Jensen's shoulder, then pulled back a bit. "Well, I still like you, Jen--in fact, know in' all this now...I'm almost assured you could be the last truly good human being left in this world."

Jensen shook his head in denial, then tried to back-pedal to break out of Jared's powerful hug. "oh, god...you have to have been a teddy bear in another life...you're unreal, if not, slightly unhinged..."

"--but you still like me...I know. And, too late, Jensen Ackles, you now have a bona-fide best friend for life..."

"ugh, god!...please, make it stop..." Never had Jensen wished words to be less true.

Jensen wasn't certain he would feel better, after revealing that moment in his life, but just like letting go of the prosthesis for one night, allowing someone "in", letting somebody close, made him feel...freer? He knew he was beginning to feel less consumed with his appearance or what others, who didn't know him, thought. He had surely felt the relief of a huge weight being off his back, now he didn't have to keep hiding, pretending.

They had talked until they had to get ready fro dinner. They would be scheduled for the first dinner bell, at 8pm; the second dinner bell would be at 8:45. Since the passenger list, this time around, was cut in half, some had thought it to better serve everyone to combine both dinner bells, but, that idea fizzled out before it even came to fruition. This was a purposeful cruise for crew members and staff, to see if they could work together with others and amongst themselves, so this cruise was to be treated like a normal one, as if they were at full capacity. The Chef, the cooks and all the dining room staff truly enjoyed the smaller quantities at each dinner bell; they would've loved to have it this way during every cruise.

Jensen led Jared to his table, then realized he had been remiss, failing miserably, in making full introductions to some of the rest of the head crew members, especially the cruise ship doctor. he must have truly blanked out during that cocktail hour. Lucky for him, these people were now at the same dinner bell he was. He stepped up behind Dr. Sheela Murphy, placing a tender touch to her back as she was seated at her own table. "Sheela, my deepest apologies." He leaned forward to press a small air-kiss to the side of her cheek. "I seemed to have lost my head earlier, so I wasn't able to introduce you to Officer Jared Padalecki." Jensen drew Jared in, and over, using his right arm to hook around Jared's dangling left one. "Jared--Sheela...Sheela--Jared, and..." He went to swing a hand toward the companion seat next to her, finding it briefly empty before a man, with plate and wine glass in hand, sat down. "--Nurse Collins..." Jensen's jaw clenched tight in quick disappointment; he would never have come over had he noticed this man. "I hadn't seen you in the Captain's quarters."

Jared could sense rising tension, Jensen being a bit flustered for a minute, then recuperating fast. He eyed the male nurse with a serious glint. Something was "off" here, between them.

As if feeling the discourse and distress that always culminated with these two co-workers, Dr. Murphy turned to face Jared, placing her delicate hand into his dangling one, then sandwiching her two with his. "Jared, it's lovely to meet you, finally. I tend to hear all good things about you, but...excuse these two, and their rudeness. A difference of opinions still rages on between them."

"Oh..." Jared nodded, not quite understanding because he had felt it was something a little more disturbing.

Jensen wished that had been all that had transpired. Misha Collins was an excellent nurse; he was actually a "nurse practitioner", which some people termed "Doctor Light". He hadn't gone for the fancy degree, but he had similar privileges when a doctor wasn't present. At work, Misha was a well-known flirt; in his social life, he tended to explore relationship with both sexes. Misha was not shy about his attractions to people, and this was where he and Jensen butted heads. Prior to their argument, they had always gotten along, been great colleagues. During a rather tempestuous break-up with another couple, Misha had attempted to use Jensen's simple gesture of empathy to try to make a move. Jensen's rejection of Misha had been harsh, but he had to be assured Misha would know, and adhere to personal boundaries, once it was obvious "no meant no" and Jensen would never change his mind.

Jensen had hated kicking a man when he was down, but it had to be done. This was about when their "difference of opinion" verbal spat started, then blew up in both their faces, making it impossible to reconcile. Jensen had tried to make amends, but Misha took the world in "black or white", no "gray area" friendzone. Jensen had to throw in the towel, figuring this would be Misha's loss not to be a part of his life, not the other way around. Jensen still held Misha in high regard, but that was all for anything rebuilding between them.

Misha had to stand a little, leaning over the table-top to take Jared's hand on offer. "Nice to meet you, Jared. Sorry we couldn' meet at the Captain's shindig." Even though he was talking to Jared, he side-eyed toward Jensen, throwing shade over him, without being outright mean. He did eventually turn his gaze to Jared, giving out a weak smile with a "telling" wink. "I was waylaid by some unpacking of my clothes, then a minor emergent case came into the clinic..."

Not only had Jensen caught Misha's side-eye, he knew he was stirring the pot by winking at Jared, as if he was going to mark his time before he made an attempt at seduction. Jensen wanted to make it very clear Jared wasn't available. "--or, you knew I was on-board, an' you intended to avoid me until it would be ME, coming over to--"

Sheela fluttered both hands in mid-air, on either side of her. "--boys, boys, boys, boys, BOYS! Really!" She hated how they made her feel like the maternal figure between them. "Do not drag Jared or I into your silly, childish spats. Why don't you both take this time--these two weeks--to mend what's broken, and heal."

Again, Jensen bent toward Sheela's ear. "I already tried that, Sheela. Now it's in Misha's hands." From the side of his right eye, he could detect his table becoming busy, filling up with passengers who he would have to go meet-and-greet. "I have to go. I have guest to welcome." To Jared, he said, "Let's go. We can meet up with Sheela later on tonight, at a bar or at the dinner club."

Sheela reached around, then out to snag Jensen's left hand. "eh! eh! Hang on! not so fast!...I might need to go back to the clinic tonight. We've still got inventory to finish, and my clerks are taking the second dinner bell in order to enter all the passenger information into the computer. I'll take a rain-check on that drink date, but--yes, you and I...we DO need to talk."

Jensen pressed a gentleman's kiss to the hand in his, already knowing what Sheela would want to hold him back for, to discuss at length. "Again, I've already tried your suggestions. I'm just not--" He itched and wiggled his right arm. "I'm starting to enjoy a bit of freedom away from my--" Jensen held out his folded sleeve to show what he meant. "See...no prosthesis, which is good, right? But baby steps, 'kay, Sheela? I know the funds will be there to train both of us, but I'm rarely on dry land these days. Half the breeds are either afraid of the water or so excitable they could jump over the side..."

"I know, I know. I do hear you, sweetie, I do, but Lil'Sis just got in a wonderful rescue dog. She's such a sweetheart, maybe a bit high-strung, but tempered. They've had a good run of giving her some basic training. You simply have to show up this time, and stick it out with her."

Misha took a last slurp of his wine, clearing his throat. "He has to be open, and let her in." He started snickering, and shaking his head, at his own thought before he spoke, "--an' he can't even do that with most of the human population..."

"Hey!!"

"Misha!!"

Jared almost flew over the table; Jensen used his arm to hold him back. Sheela spun to give Misha a hard look of anger, but all he did was shrug nonchalantly. he did raise a curious eyebrow, looking from Jensen to Jared, then barely nodded his head once he could read the subtle body language, and swift actions, of both men toward one another.

"It's okay, Jared, it's all right." Jensen patted Jared's mid-chest with his left hand. "Throwing out witty quips appears to be his only deadly weapon. Just don't take anything he says outside of his clinical work too seriously."

Feeling miffed at the slight jab to his personal character, Misha snapped back, "--except when there's a patient involved, right, Jen?"

"eh, even then, Collins, I suppose one might need to weigh all options."

Sheela started to lightly shove at Jensen. "--go, go, GO! Now, Jen! Go have your meal and enjoy the rest of the night. And, yes, again, sorry, Jared, still nice to meet you. I will call for that drink, Jen. or maybe we can set-up a lunch with Alona."

"Bye, Sheela."

"Night, darlin'."

Now it came to Jensen looking at Misha, Misha looking at Jensen, then spotting Jared's dead stare over Jensen's shoulder.

"Collins..."

"Ackles..." Misha still gave a warm smile to Jared, then a slight nod as he watched them retreat back to their table.

  


Whew! Wow! Jared took the empty chair on Jensen's right, feeling a sense of pride, full of protection toward him. He was learning it felt good to defend Jensen, now more than ever. But for some oddball reason, he hadn't liked how he had initially responded to Misha's words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to 'flex my muscles' at Collins like that, but, uh...what the hell happened between you two?" He was still enraged, but bewildered by their animosity toward one another. Suddenly, Jared's gut clenched with dread. "It wasn't an affair that went bad? Or a terrible one night stand?"

"no, no...god, no." Jensen shook his head, his right arm automatically settling down on Jared's thighs, then giving him a good old fashioned shake of reality. "I would never take things that far with someone like Misha."

"What does that mean? Because you're co-workers? And you'll work together afterward?" Jared HAD to ask; this was imperative for him to know.

"No...well, yes, a little, but---uh, no. I refuse because of who Misha is as a person. Highly flirtatious and one never would know where his feelings truly fall; I'm sure he's a loving being, but...there is never any assurance for staying power. Most people need that stability, and I understand some don't. I think--well, I'm fairly sure I do. What about you?" Jensen lifted a lone dark blond eyebrow.

Jared had released a small sigh of relief at Jensen's words. "uhm, yeah...I suppose. I really have never come to that crossroads. I had relationships when I wanted the attention, and affections, and we both split up pretty amicably. No hard feelings." he shook his head as he furrowed his brow. "Collins just acts, or reacts, to you as if he's more of an ex-boyfriend than an ex-best friend."

"I had never once been remotely romantic or sexual with him. Nor did I show any interest for the future. He had a bad patch of a relationship--I had heard it was a married couple that he built a polyamourous bond with; that was simple gossip at work. But from Misha, I got the real scoop: he had met the wife, who talked about her husband having a desire to bring another lover into their marriage. And, I don't know, it all crumpled into Misha being blamed for everything wrong with the couple's marriage, rather than them owning their issues outright. So, one crappy day after another on top of it all...I felt bad. He had taken it to heart; I respected that, but it was tough to come back from all that heartache. The one time I empathized, I reached out to offer support, and then he--"

"--takes it to a whole different level of awkward." Jared already knew how much it would've taken for Jensen to offer the comfort, so that was awesome of him. But to hear how Misha had mistakenly taking the moment too far...it made their rages understandable, to a point.

"He kissed me. Then he groped me." Jensen simply stated the points of interest, never showing that it had truly disgusted him, just had made him numb and extremely upset at Misha. He turned his head to find Jared growing fidgety in his seat. "--ease up, cowboy, ease up. I'm a big boy. And I knew Misha's reputation against true character. I never felt it was harassment or assault; he had only misconstrued what I was offering. Once I pushed him away, I had to make it crystal clear I had felt nothing, and this feeling would never change." Jensen took a hard swallow of his water in the goblet, wiggling around in his own chair. "I, uh, may have worded my outrage a bit too harshly. After all our years of friendship, it truly did hurt me that he'd reduced it down to a kiss and a grope, having ME be the 'bad guy' to shoot him down. He claims I read his actions wrong, but--I don't know. I started feeling guilty, saw the situation from his view, then I made some failed attempts to apologize--twice. Somewhere in the middle there, our huge fallout happened, so...that's it in a nutshell."

"whew! I think that is the most I have heard you yammer in three years, son!!"

Both Jared and Jensen swiveled their heads to find Uncle Brennan seated across the table, directly in front of them. And, somehow, almost instantly, the rest of their first night improved dramatically.

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

For a first day at sea, for those choppy 24hrs, they had seemed to reason that the rest of the cruise would be similar, in kind. Not true, and this would happen in most cases.

The next two days, for Jared and Jensen were a lot smoother, proving to be slightly yawn-worthy, at times.

It had been awesome how much many of the former Speight & Townsend employee had truly gotten into a "groove" with how great it was to a be a part of the DeMorgan cruise lines. It may not have been what they were used to, but for the first time they had been shown sincere respect and treated like Adults. Hell, some of them even enjoyed the monotonous team management building workshops being held throughout the week.

There were also enough well-behaved DeMorgan employees to outnumber them, who still knew how to have fun, enjoy a party atmosphere, but maintain their dignity and moral character. They weren't even against taking an S&T recruit under their wing, and showing them the ropes. Everyone was in the same point, pun unintended, because The Contessa was such a new brand, nobody was assured of what would be her true calling, so they had to go by the DeMorgan cruise ship default routines.

For Jared and Jensen, these 48hrs had become more time to get to know one another and ruminate in their new-forming bond, which still grew as they would sleep.

Jensen had found he liked mentoring Jared, who was a superb student, uber-willing and able to teach himself right off the bat, so Jensen wouldn't have to keep doing repetitive training; Jared usually got it right the next time he had done the action on his own. Jensen had known rather quickly that he could trust Jared, and place him in a professional role with no qualms about him failing, or disrespecting the task ahead.

Jared truly began to love being "taught" by Jensen. Knowing exactly "who?" Jensen was had been something of a whirlwind sensation; a true legend in the Coast Guard was right in front of him, allowing him close enough to breathe his same air. It was like getting to act alongside Robert Deniro, or jamming at a family picnic with Mike McCready and Stone Gossard of Pearl Jam. Jensen knew a whole fucking lot of information about pretty much...well, everything. Every hour he spent beside him was totally fascinating to him, never a boring moment. Even when they were in the Purser's office simply churning out paperwork, filling out, then filing proper forms. At least once or twice, every shift, Jared could guarantee there came a minor crisis about to unfold, but they had such great support around them, problems had been solved before they became festering wounds.

They had gotten into an easy routine for their day-to-day shifts. Since Jensen was the superior in his office setting, most of his "off-hours" we're given to him in chunks of time. he could put in a request for a full 24hrs off, but he had to hand it in well in advance, so they could replace him with other employees. Jared had a similar schedule like Jensen, but that was mainly because for the first week, Jensen had wanted Jared by his side until he was assured he could work on his own. And that discovery hadn't taken more than a single 8-hour shift for Jensen to realize.

Today The Contessa had docked at Freeport, in the Grand Bahama Island; this would be the first passenger off-board excursion set-up by Alona, their Cruise Director. For a good solid hour Jensen had pulled Jared in, with him, to help Alona and her crew out, getting this activity squared away and off to a great start.

As Jared and Jensen watched the passengers, and several DeMorgan activity directors, who would become "chaperons", from the upper deck, off the thick railing, they both appeared to react with slight envy.

Jensen had heard Jared's heavy sigh. "I know--the first time you see this, you wish it could be you. But, trust me, experience the actual trip on dry land...ONCE, and you'll want to come back to the ship, pronto."

Jared shook his head, giving out a random wave to one of the passengers who could see them from down below, before they had gotten onto the DeMorgan van passenger-bus; it was comforting to see that company logo, as if there was a DeMorgan office in Freeport, which there most likely was, knowing how efficient JD Morgan was. "Nah, it's not that. A miss'd opportunity, I suppose, but...I've never been to any place this exotic on my own. It feels--" He looked out onto the city, or town, of Freeport, a little sad that he wasn't disembarking to satisfy some curiosity. or that latent need inside of him to go exploring; traveling always captivated him, and he had thought joining the Army would curb some appeal, but then, no, not in the slightest. The Coast Guard opened many more opportunities for him, but working for DeMorgan Charters was just as refreshing.

Jared stretched out his arms, making his hands open and close like he was squeezing malleable stress-balls. "--I don't..." He was finding it difficult to speak the words he wanted. "Places like this feel more intimate...romantic, in nature. Honeymoon vibes, ya know? I wouldn't want to be here alone, is all I mean." He turned to lean on his right, now looking to Jensen as a few wisps of flyaway blond hairs flew up with the breeze being felt so high up.

Jensen already knew where Jared would be going with this direction of conversation. They had some tough close-calls in the past two days, where either of them could have made a slick move toward something more, and it was truth-telling that even when they shared the same bed, there was respect between them enough to be considerate to the other. Invisible boundaries kept them from pursuit, and they both felt what they had built together was too fragile and precious to destroy so foolishly. But would an intimacy truly demolish their bond, or simply kick it up a notch?

"Don't, Jared. Don't go there."

"If I don't...will you just admit it to me, out loud, that there is 'something' brewing?"

"oh, I can admit it--more to myself, though." Jensen was gripping tight to the railing, keeping his head averted until that DeMorgan passenger-bus left. "I've been good. I've been so good about never bringing a relationship into the workplace. Not even when I was in the Army, and out on deployment. And not even when I was in the Coast Guard, then joining the Reserves a few years later..."

"I know." Jared reached out to clamp a hand around the right forearm, letting his fingers sooth over the warm skin, tickling the fuzzy blond-red hairs on-end. "And you know it's the same way with me. I even told you back in your office that first day we--"

"I do know, Jay." it had felt so nice using that nickname for Jared. It had made Jensen feel close to someone for the first time, in too long.

"Jus' so you'd know, I would be discrete. I'm not lookin' for the whole she-bang, right off the bat. I am willing, and able, to go slow, if need be. At whatever pace makes you feel comfortable." Jared was stunned by how much he was willing to sacrifice to make this something extra-special between him and Jensen. And not to try to even dare something sexual so soon; he had had plenty of relationships with other men where it was more emotional than sexual, but there was still an intense chemistry and attraction because it hadn't been based on "looks" or "physical body type".

"Thanks, but..." Jensen gave a soft pat to Jared's hand, not removing the touch, but he did draw his hand back. "--relationships that start at work--especially at DeMorgan--never have a great track record."

"Not even Danneel Harris and JD Morgan?"

"eh, what you don't know is...what they have never started here. Dani was a stewardess on a commercial airline, and JD was actually flying in First Class. She had his section and Business, and she went above-and-beyond her calling to please him; he liked that so much he woo'd her away and gave her a prime position in his company. She will always have a job here, even if they break-up."

"oh, but still...look at their staying power. That's got to say something."

"Dani is miserable more than she's happy. She's had her heart broken more times than I dare to count." Jensen finally turned to look directly at Jared. "I should know, I live with her and I've had to comfort that brokenness once too often."

"yeah, but...we're not THEM. And--"

"Yes. You're right. I'm not a CEO of a major corporation, and you're not an employee of mine."

"Wait..." Jared put his hand around Jensen's nearby shoulder joint. "--you see me as 'Dani'...an' yourself as a CEO in this scenario?" He was attempting to lighten the somber mood, because he knew Jensen could, potentially, shatter his confidence.

They both chuckled, while Jensen used his right arm to gently shove Jared's chest-wall; he did that a lot, using his right arm with Jared with no shame or embarrassment. He had even pulled down the short-sleeved white shirts to wear when it was hotter than hell.

Jensen could only shake his head at Jared's audacity and his own weaknesses. "Why do you do that?"

"What? Be funny? Try to make you laugh?"

"Try to be charming, when you know this is something serious."

"Do you like it when I'm charming?" Jared couldn't help the small smile lifting up the corner of his mouth.

"YES!" Jensen pounded his fist down on the railing, creating a muffled "gong" sound; the vibrations actually pelted Jared slightly after. "This is the whole problem." He moved from the railing to walk, Jared easily followed behind, tucking his hands in trouser pockets. "I need you to be NOT-charming, so I can--"

"--stop being attracted." Jared nodded in understanding, then rubbed a hand over his chin. "Okay, fair enough. So, then...go back to the cabin...an' make yourself so fuckin' ugly I can't bear to look directly into your face..."

"What!?!" Jensen came full-stop, as if his leather deck shoes were actual tires setting the brakes. He wasn't sure whether he should be more anger or laugh his ass off.

Jared started counting off his list on his fingers. "Don't shower! Don't shave! Don't sleep...or eat! Stop lookin' so freakin' drop-dead super-model gorgeous!...an' maybe I'll stop being so fuckin' charming!!"

Wow! Jared had really yelled that loud enough that it echoed around them, this high up in the air on the upper deck? They both stopped briefly to glance around them, a little shocked they were still alone, and no one had turned a corner to see what the hell kind of conversation was being had, and between what two people.

Jensen shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he dipped chin to chest. He moved to lean back on his elbows on a different section of railing. "oh, man, Jay...really, you..." He let his left palm rub a soothing pattern over his chest, like his heart would explode through.

And then Jared was suddenly...right THERE! In Jensen's "freakin' drop-dead super-model gorgeous" face.

Arms were splayed, fingers curling around the railing on either side of Jensen's wide frame. He wasn't too close, but close-enough to unsettle the usually calm and controlled Jensen, who averted his head again. It was yet another close-call where Jared could have forcibly kissed Jensen, or...Jensen could have pounced, if he was so inclined...but that moment of white-hot passion from Jared appeared to dial down a tad.

"Wait, I take that back...I've seen you roll right out of bed, from a deep sleep, to a ear-shattering bedside alarm clock...shit! you'd probably still leave me breathless..." Jared shrugged both shoulders as he noticed the blush surface on both cheeks, the Adam's apple move up-n-down to a hard swallow. He took his hands off the railing, but now just stood in front of Jensen, feet planted solid. "--but what else is new?"

"You really DO need to stop...or I'll change the subject on purpose." Jensen threatened in the softest voice he could muster with the clog in his throat.

"Change it." Jared dared him as he folded his forearms over his chest.

"That Memo that we read the other day. The one about the team building business plan...do you really wanna do it? With me?" Before Jared could muck his words up with innuendos, Jensen continued, "I would be a different side of learning about this job, because it's more about the 'business' side of things, than dealing with actual people. But you would still, a certain times, need something like this skill wherever you go, even at this level as a purser."

The memo had simply stated that ANY DeMorgan employee on The Contessa would have a shot at creating a "workable" business plan of how to utilize this new brand. The team of employees could be anywhere from two to as many as five, and if implemented, or chosen by the board of directors to use when it was decided when The Contessa's maiden voyage was scheduled, then those team members would get a part of the profits. This was the kind of employee incentive that made DeMorgan Enterprises a different company than any of it's competitors, and probably why they had such loyal and trustworthy employees.

"Work with you? And get to pick your brain? Where do I sign up?"

"..'kay, well, we'd have to do this off-hours, when we're not working. But I'm sure with two minds on one course, we can come up with profitable ideas, and then prove, without a shadow of doubt, how lucrative each one would be."

Jared had been fascinated by this chance, especially to work with Jensen in this capacity where they could be creating a "working business" in tandem. "Would company executives typically use a business plan created by employees?"

Jensen shook his head emphatically. "No, not usually. DeMorgan is separate from the pack, always has been. I don't know what makes JD think so highly of his minions...but he sure doesn't shirk how this company is as much OURs as it is his own. How do you think DeMorgan has become so 'global' is it's been able to. Our business model is incomparable, and other countries are attempting to model after us. Being ahead of everyone did come easily, nor by just JD's hands alone."

"So, potentially...I could be, like, a Father of Invention." Jared thought it really cool to be a co-creator of something tangible that could be pursued in the future, not just by their generation, either.

"--sure, sure..."

"Have YOU ever done something like this before?"

Jensen shook his head, shrugging one shoulder. "This kind of situation is rare, and it mostly happens through Head Office, to be done by the employees who work there. Out here, when we crew the yachts and ships, we might dole out some meager comments into a Suggestion Box of some kind, small details that might need improving or changing. Then, it could be combined into one huge package deal where it's part of a whole not separate to an individual."

"Well, jeez...this makes me wanna do it even more. When should we start?"

"Now. Or, soon...as in...Today."

"ah, got it." Jared understood the need for expediency.

"--and we can't become slackers...or allow ourselves to be distracted." Jensen waggled a finger at Jared, emphasizing the "no-no" points. "By anything..."

Or...anyONE? Jared thought to himself. "Loud and clear, Officer Ackles." He gave out a weak salute from his temple.

"...quit it." Jensen rolled his eyes, pushing off the railing to begin walking again.

"What?!"

"You know 'what'!!"

"Hey...have I told you about those pretty green eyes of yours? How I drown in them almost on a daily basis?"

"You're STILL being charming!!"

"d'awwww...now you're jus' graspin' at straws..." Jared softly chuckled as he watched Jensen stomped away like a petulant child.

It was late into the night. They had spent hours together in their cabin, having chosen to skip going to the dining room for a meal. They had ordered room service, pigging out on "brain food" as they diligently worked on perfecting this speculative business plan. Jensen had continued to keep glancing at the memo to make sure their ideas were in compliance.

Somewhere around 11pm, Jensen was at the desk in the room, writing long-hand on a yellow legal pad as he compiled all of their collected notes; he had drawn diagrams that he felt they would need to feature, showing certain statistical information.

Last thing he had known was that Jared had one of their DeMorgan binders and a rather large, weighty law book, hoping to find every loophole they could jump through to keep anyone from denying their ideas were costly and ineffective, making them lose money rather than gain profit.

Jensen had forgotten how energizing work like this had been for him, and probably why it had been so easy for him to get his Master's degree in Business and Marketing, while settling on a Bachelor's degree for Business Management. He had known this information like the back of his hand, and how intricately he had to research and word this business plan so it could truly be a viable option. If it became the "Norm" for The Contessa, all the better.

When he turned a little to glance over his shoulder, Jensen heard nothing. Not a cough, nor a turn of a heavy page. Then he swiveled in the chair to see that Jared was O-U-T-OUT! with the massive law book they had checked out of the ship's library splat-open over his slumbering face; no wonder Jensen hadn't heard those soft snores, they were being drowned out by 5lbs of law text.

Giving out a tiny smile of pleasure, Jensen turned back to look down at the paper he had used so far, then down at his watch. It might be a good time for them to go to bed. He put a paperclip on the next clean sheet to keep his place, unrolling all fifteen previous pages back to the start. Jared had claimed he was a fast typist, so Jensen would get him to transcribe the prior writing, while Jensen would continue on with the handwritten portion. Tomorrow, Jensen would teach Jared about spreadsheets, and how to make their hand-drawn diagrams through the computer. He wanted to get a lot of this grunt-work completed before they went into the second week of the cruise.

Because of their conversation earlier this morning, Jensen had been formulating a plan inside his head. He wanted to arrange a day off they could both have, then take Jared out on one of the activity excursions. It was, again, something Jensen had never done before, or had even thought about doing for himself. But knowing Jared had never done this, either, made him want to make it happen even more. Especially if Jensen could turn it into a surprise birthday present as Jared would turn 30 next week. Jensen had never been the best gift-giver, but he was trying to improve that, even with his own family.

He decided to clean-up and organize the desktop as best he could, then he switched the desk lamp to a low hue, until he could get Jared into bed. It wasn't easy to wake Jared, even with that heavy law book on his face. As Jensen had picked up the last bits of their trash: the beer bottles, the junk food wrappers and bags of chips, and the cold leftover pizza crusts, he would pass the couch, attempting to shake Jared to wake. It had taken several rounds of doing this move before Jared sprung upright with a boisterous, "I'm up! I'm up! I'm up--up-up!!", to which he then had nodded back into slumber, now hugging the law book like it was a attention-seeking lover.

Jensen had chuckled at the sight, but he didn't want to have to come anywhere close enough to Jared, where the curious flames had simmered from earlier today, when Jared had eloquently had fanned to surface. It wasn't that Jensen couldn't trust Jared; he knew the kid was flat-out exhausted, and couldn't seduce a willing partner when he was like the Engergizer Bunny with dying battery power.

Nah, Jensen really couldn't trust himself. Years of all this moral behavior, and knowing that his past was shrouded in a lot of questionable actions, he wasn't sure that a moment of failed willpower wouldn't shove him right into Jared's arms. The fate of the First mate job still hung int he balance; both the Captain and Tommy had made a call to JD, so now they simply waited his call back about Cameron Derrick.

And to have such a young and handsome specimen of male flesh almost willing, and eager, to succumb to anything Jensen wanted...the temptation was too great to bear. Someone like Jared, who was probably innocent in some ways, being with someone like Jensen, who was more experienced, felt a little imbalanced. Jensen remembered how it had been, acting like you could wild and free, but then not thinking hard enough about the weight of the guilt that would come to you in the end. Of what you dared to start without fully realizing consequences. Hurt feelings and strange, frenzied emotions. Jensen feared that with Jared willing to give even just a mere ounce of sacrifice, Jensen would take a long mile, and maybe even more, from him; Jared had no idea to what he could unleash.

Finally, Jensen wandered over, took the book away, and started pulling on Jared's arm. "C'mon, A Beautiful Mind...you need to sleep in a comfortable bed, to be well-rested for what's in store for tomorrow."

Jared let himself be dragged upright, swiping over face and digging into eyes to remove the crud; he needed to clear his blurred vision enough to make it over to the bed--on the right side, because Jensen like the left. Actually, it had been Jensen's room, Jensen's bed, so Jared let Jensen have first dibs; Jared normally slept dead-center of his own mattress at home. Jensen was already brushing his teeth, possibly taking a leak, having changed into those sleep pants; he wore different colored tank tops, depending on what color was in the pant material. Tonight, Jared could barely even ogle sufficiently; he couldn't even get out of his shirt fast enough before he flopped backward onto the mattress and zonked out.

That's how Jensen found him when he shut off the bathroom light and walked out into the main room to slip into bed. Tonight, he would put an extra pillow between them, because Jared was kind of a roller in bed, and he tended to roll right into Jensen's side or back. Jared had yet to place an arm around Jensen, but with the way the air was heating up between them, in the underneath, there was a possibility that Jared could become "fresh" and forget to pick a side of the bed to stay on.

Jensen yawned as he settled under the thin sheets, pulling the hem right to his shoulder line, then he turned on his left side to reach out and tug on the light switch. He placed his head on the pillow and let Jared's soft snores sing him to his own slumber.

  


Jared wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew he had to wake up. Because Jensen was in some distress. Of course, Jensen was still asleep, but he was locked in dreamland, or a cumbersome nightmare that wouldn't let him go.

This had happened once before; it had disquieted Jared because the pure fear and the wracking sobs about to come out of Jensen, just from a dream, would make his own sentimental emotions surface. That moment had been way different than right now, because Jensen was not only louder, he was thrashing around. During that particular bad dream, all Jared had to do was reach out, touching Jensen on his shoulder, then the center of his chest to settle his breathing and heart rate. Within twenty minutes, Jensen was out of that nightmare, deeply asleep again. Neither of them discussed the incident come morning, and Jared hadn't wanted to make a big deal about if Jensen hadn't remembered; he was foolish enough to think it wouldn't happen again.

Jared could just imagine where Jensen was exactly in his mind; mere days ago, Jensen had recalled the moment of his near death, retelling the story as if it had just happened the day before. Jared could kick himself for being so stupid, for stirring up this kind of pain, allowing it to fester once tension or an all-out stressful situation flourished. Jensen had kept all emotions and feelings buried deep, so deep no one could touch unless he allowed them to. And Jensen was only getting started with Jared. This was the kind of reality many in the military faced, but for someone like Jensen, who had escaped death as if sheer luck was on their side, when it was just a willingness to fight for simple survival. Jared knew that all too well.

Jensen actually woke himself up to where he shot upright in bed, his own voice choking on a guttural scream...and then he saw Jared, sitting there, watching him, and he could only feel shame, for allowing such emotional turmoil to wrench this from him when he was most vulnerable.

"Shit!...I--I--I'm...sorry..."

"Jen, don--!!" Jared was too late to catch Jensen before he threw back the linen sheets, able to notice he was drenched, covered in his own sweat.

Jensen hopped off the mattress and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Seconds later, the shower was running.

Jared quietly slumped off the bed; he looked down to notice he was still dressed in his clothes. He stood, bedside, taking off his flannel long-sleeve shirt, throwing it on a nearby chair. He started to unbuckle his leather belt, moving over to the sliding doors so he could open them and let in the cool, fresh sea air; the sheer curtains flopped in the breeze, billowing around him. He glanced back at the bathroom door, to see if Jensen would come out, but when he still heard the running water, he stepped out onto the balcony.

Jensen had taken the quickest shower known to man, leaving the bathroom with only a single towel wrapped around his waist; he'd let his buzz-cut air-dry tonight because it felt good after that intense heat from his dream. Another dream where he was trapped, locked in a forced prison with no doors, no windows. It didn't even have to mimic that sinking ship he'd been in to be traumatic once more; he just had to feel the same, in every way. Holding breath, sustaining life, fearing an imminent death on the way. Above all, being alone...

He opened his dresser drawer to take out another pair of sleep pants, but no tank-t. Jensen shut his eyes at the feel of the sea breeze blowing in, as peaceful as if he'd found Heaven. He didn't bother with underwear, just pulled on the pants, under the towel, dropped the towel right at his feet, then pulled the elastic waist tight to his body. He glanced at the bed, found it empty, then noticed the leather belt thrown free where it had fallen to the floor, right at the sliding glass doorway. Jensen reached into the ceramic bowl on top of the dresser to put his dog-tag necklace on; some small measure of comfort that often soothed him after one of those shattering nightmares.

Jared could hear the sounds of the clanging dog-tags; the same necklace sat under his t-shirt. He knew that Jensen stood behind him, and he knew that one of them had to speak up about what had happened a few minutes ago.

There was something awful comforting about finding Jared, doing that lazy lean on the railing, in those every day t-shirt and jeans, low-riding now on his hips, but still accenting that backside as it stuck out. Bare feet...and long legs...Jensen couldn't get enough of the sight of Jared beside him...both of them sleep-weary, both of them feeling their chemistry and attraction in this one single moment of shared time...

So Jensen slow marched over, picking up Jared's right arm as he tucked himself under and put his arms around, and then he simply let the opportunity speak for itself as he buried his face into Jared's warm neck.

"--oh, god..." The inner groan that came out of Jared sounded slightly tortured, but the way it felt to have Jensen sink right into his body was heady. He didn't pounce, he simply embraced in kind, letting it be known that he would only go so far. But all the suave moves would have to come from Jensen, if they were to go anywhere further than where they were already. The very little he did to move forward was hold Jensen tighter, closer, because he felt him trembling, still effected by the dream that had woken him.

"...i's different when I'm alone..."

"...I bet." Jared rubbed his chin on top of Jensen's head; the hair was softer than he had thought. He let his gaze head on out into the surface of the water; it was pitch black, with partial white lines showing where waves still fluctuated. One could only find blue water around the hull of the ship, because of the floodlights cascading their hues down the sides to the choppy surface. He started soothing his hand over Jensen's naked back, curling it around the side flank to soothe, as well. Jared gave out a shaky laugh. "You may have scared ten years off my life...but I think I'll survive." He could feel Jensen burrow into him, holding him tighter, too. "I think tha's mostly because you finally trust me enough to let me hold you...touch you. I've never had to work this hard in my life!"

Jensen deeply chuckled at the comment, their bodies bumping and brushing with the sway of the ship; it felt natural to just hang on to one another, never let go. "Never let it be said I don't make it worth your while..." He pressed his forehead deeply into Jared's neck, wondering how he could keep that just out of the shower smell, yet not lose a natural scent. Jensen pulled away, craning his head back so he could look up into Jared's eyes; being this close to him was daunting, if not rather thrilling because he truly never knew what to expect with Jared. So he took the bait and leaned up to press lips to the stubble forming on the right jawline; Jared pushed into the move, slowly turning as he backed off.

Now they were face to face, lips matched in alignment, and, again, Jensen took the initiative to press a kiss. But, this time, Jared did make an advance; he brought Jensen up front, dead center of him so his back was leaning on the railing and then he intensified their liplock. Jensen made a noise of approval and began to open lips wider, trying to munch on Jared's mouth. Jared nearly whined in pain because it was awesome and wonderful to feel Jensen's aggression when he knew he had space to play fair or foul.

Jensen broke off, leaning weakly into Jared's chin. "...oh, man...wanted to do that for so long...glad I waited..."

Jared released his arms from around Jensen to now grip tight to the railing. "...glad we both waited..." He dipped his face to brush their foreheads and skim nosetips. "But the night--eh, early morning--is still young...an' we're all alone on this--poor excuse of a balcony."

Jensen had to laugh because it was true; it was a tiny space for a balcony, but it was theirs alone. He could feel his body start to respond to Jared being near, the constant brushing of their fronts causing him to react; not having put on his usual boxer briefs meant he was swinging free and he'd soon start to poke out. Something about being out here, of being with Jared who was always curious and willing to explore, or experiment made him wonder if Jared would come along with him, if he dared. He placed his left hand to Jared's chest, trailing the fingers down the t-shirt material to the untucked hem; his hand dived under to touch bare flesh and Jared sucked in a quick breath. "...you're warm...like me..."

"I can be more like you..." Jared pushed back to cross arms and deftly pulled off his t-shirt so now he was bare-chested as well. Nipples protruded forward as he returned to the same position, causing Jensen to let out his own moans of ecstasy at the sensations their torsos meshing created.

Now Jensen dropped his hand to loosen the waistband of the sleep pants, then he let them fall; they briefly caught on his kneecaps as he shook a little to make them shimmy to the floor at his feet.

"ah, well...now, tha's just being strategically unfair..." Jared actually gulped as they went through another sway of the ship, and Jensen's growing erection poked then brushed to eventually be squished between their bodies.

They both reacted the same, inwardly groaning at the feel of denim against bare skin; Jared having that extra layer of underwear and denim, but still...Jensen's cock was accidentally hitting him enough to make him horny as fuck.

"...god...didn't know it'd feel this fuckin' good..." Jensen drew both arms up Jared's chest-wall to circle around his neck, raising him a little a bit off his toes.

"...tell me 'bout it..." Jared dropped his arms to encircle Jensen's waist, pulling them flush together.

They started kissing again, and this time it was as if they were both trying to steal the other's breath; their lips met as tongues darted out to clash and clang with teeth.

Jensen was stunned that Jared didn't try to grope him over his groin or along his bare bottom; it was as if Jared would only take it so far, but it was Jensen's choice to take the next step forward. He smiled to himself, pleasure beyond belief that Jared could give him the same kind of freedom he'd given him before.

"--when I put you down, Jen...I want you to turn aroun'..."

"...why?....wha' for?" Jensen had a curious thought that maybe Jared had seen something in the distance, or in the sky, that maybe he wanted them both to share the beauty.

"oh, you'll see..."

When Jensen was set down, he swiftly spun to face outward, momentarily leaning on the railing, but not overtly so. Jared made a few seconds worth of unsnapping his jeans to let the material of both briefs and denim brush over Jensen's bare ass. Jensen sucked in a breath as Jared dropped to the floor behind him; he kicked back those sleep pants before they went overboard.

"Wha--do you want me to--?" Jensen almost swiveled, but Jared put a flat palm to his back.

"No! Stay there! Steady, lookin' out on the water."

"--but wha--?" Jensen was unsure exactly what Jared intended him to see, or even what he intended to do...but then...he felt the soft, delicate kisses to his calf muscles, trailing up tot he backs of his thighs; he actually quivered a little, with both his body reacting to Jared and the chill of the air. "...oh-god..." He leaned over now, slowly moving his legs to part as he felt the subtle grab to his ass cheeks, then the eventual spread of them; he barely even noticed what was in front of him as he closed his eyes in near climax. Holy Christ... was he really about to be eaten out--rimmed?--while he was innocently gazing out into the waves? This was sheer madness, and yeah...sheer ecstasy galore, because if there was one thing he loved more than actual sex, it had to be having his hole played with.

If Jared had perfected one move in his entire pathetic gay sexual experience, it was being able to rim a guy and give him the orgasm of his life. He knew he had a long tongue; he knew he had a mouth that eat just about anything...even assholes. But most importantly, he knew exactly what to do, how far to go in order to make a man come so hard he forgot his own name.

So, he began. Those innocent kisses, the subtle massages to the globes of ass; he worshiped the body prior to the real event in order to confuse and create chaotic sensations that would eventually culminate in a bodily climax. It would be moot of there was actually going to be a release of semen, and that wasn't important to Jared. Nor did it seem to be for the guys this happened to, once they had reached the final result.

Jensen was more than impressed, in fact he was falling in lust with the way Jared could "play" his body and make him practically shake with deep, inner quakes. Here he thought Jared the one who needed to be taught, when the student had become the better teacher, who could probably share a trick or two with that tongue of his.

The kisses to the tail-bone almost had Jensen airborne; he only keened and moaned, falling a little forward where his face was buried in his crossed arms. He found himself crouching, bending knees in order to spread himself wider, and Jared used that subtle action to give his first lick over his crack, between the cheeks. Jensen shivered and shook, making a sudden grab for his jutting cock that had, at some point, began leaking precome.

"oh shit!...ohshit!...ohshitohshitohshit!!" Jensen began to furiously stroke himself, now just pressing his moist brow into the curve of his right elbow.

The licks changed into being tentative, like a mere tasting, and then the two thick thumbs curved inward, making a permanently open crease to the puckered entrance.

Jared loved the way Jensen tasted; it was raw from sweat, bitter form body soap, but ultimately salty from skin. he dived in, catching Jensen unaware as he thrust forward, losing grip of his cock. But, strangely enough, Jared had forced another sensation without knowing.

The guard-rail had a main railing at top, but there were subsequent smaller ones going to the floor; the space between each pole was never wide enough to get stuck. And that's what the topside of Jensen's erection brushed, essentially edging him to orgasm with no hand needed. This was good, because Jensen was feeling like he was about to collapse.

And then came the tongue-tip penetration, which caused Jensen to bellow out his cries, no longer able to hold back. Jared became relentless, and terribly cruel, at this point as he went about satisfying his own pleasures, but unknowingly pitching Jensen right into the fire they had ignited between them.

"--shitshitshit...fuuuuuck!--gonna cum--I'm gonna cum---I'm gonna--!"

Jared had shoved far enough into the canal that he had Jensen rising to toe-tips, those thick thighs quaking as an inner anal orgasm passed through, taking every last bit of Jensen's strength left. Jensen panted heavy as he curled his arms, beginning to hug the railing, allowing his body to succumb to the waves, upon waves of a dry release

Jared went back to merely licking over the hole, using the tip of his right thumb to play at the dusky pink skin, witnessing the anus fluctuating open, then closed during the aftermath of the climax. "--yeah, baby...how'd that feel?" He slowly started to rise off his knees, shaping arms around Jensen as he lifted him, carried him, pressing one tiny kiss after another up the body, over bare skin, right to Jensen's neck.

Jensen savored those kisses, tilting his head into Jared' hair as he brought up his left hand to touch, to tenderly caress the rough cheek. "--wanna do that again, but--later." He let both arms align with Jared's as they held one another close, rocking and swaying to the ship's movements. "Do you have any--?"

Jared laughed, burying his face away in Jensen's shoulder to neck. "Condoms? No. You?"

Barely able to hold a conversation, he shook his head, petting over the bulky forearms around him.

Right at an ear, nibbling on the lobe, Jared made an offer, "We can still do this--fuck, I mean. I can give you another great orgasm like the last one."

"...can't forget that one. Not if they always make me feel this way."

"Now that, I can promise you." Jared gave a chaste kiss to a cheek, looking out on the water. "It's beautiful out there---it nearly got choppy just as you came."

Jensen eeked out a laugh. "--man, I thought that was just me." He turned to face out, gazing at the sea, as well; he hugged Jared even tighter. It wasn't bothering him that he was completely naked and sporting a hearty erection. it simply felt...right.

Jared released one arm, moving his lower body away to help tug down his jeans and briefs. He was down to mid-thigh when he lost grip one a sway and his groin tried to flatten against Jensen's ass. Both of them sucked in air through clenched teeth.

It was suddenly dawning on Jensen exactly how they would still fuck without a condom. "--yeah, yeah...let's do it...we've come this far, right?"

Jared chuckled at how dirty both their minds were when together. "--hell, yes--times a thousand..."

"I'm not even gonna have to touch myself to come."

Jared was confused, so he peeked down, able to catch the sight of Jensen's stiff length, how it was positioned under one of the smaller bars of the railing. "Holy shit! That doesn't hurt?!"

"Nope. I seem to be tall enough, so this is right where I fit perfectly."

"I'll say. That's...so cool."

"Just...we'll get into position, and all you'll need to do is hold onto me, while I hold onto you, an'...hells bells, we might not even have to thrust at all."

"--this...is...gonna be...so...awesome..."

"all right...there's charming...an' there's jus' bein' a dick, Jay..."

"oh, sorry...my inner gay tween did a total freak-out."

Jensen patted Jared's arm. "It's okay--I forgive you. Jus' stay a 29yr old adult until I shoot my load--"

"m'kay..." Jared had to dissolve into silly giggling--the image of an ejaculation over the railing giving him endless "dork" feelings. He felt Jensen reposition his legs once he fit his cock between those firm thighs.

Poor unsuspecting people down below them...

  


At some point they had come in from the balcony, all tangled, minds frazzled and discombobulated. They'd collapsed on the mattress, after pulling off the comforter and linen sheets, leaving the bed almost bare except for the pillows.

Jensen had flopped down where Jared had slept, and Jared was in Jensen's spot, although as they became more sleepy, he had rolled closer to Jensen. When he had fallen asleep, Jared was half-draped over Jensen's right side, while he lay face-down; Jared's left leg twined between Jensen's legs.

Jensen woke before Jared, so he watched him sleep, wishing he could reach out and touch, caress, with his "right" hand. The stump was a bit too clumsy and intrusive. Jared slowly woke, because he felt someone was watching him, and if he got up early enough, maybe he and Jensen could...

...green eyes were wide, gazing directly at him.

And, Jared understood he'd never been in love like he was right this minute. "mmm--mornin'..." He leaned over to smack a kiss on waiting lips. "Did you sleep at all?" He had been out like a light before Jensen.

Jensen shut his lids to the gentle feel of Jared combing through his hair, caressing ever detail of his face as if to remember him later on. "mm-hmm...I did." He went to move, like he was going to tuck back under Jared's chest, but then he flipped Jared onto his back. Subtly, Jensen crawled over to lay on his right side; Jared had put his underwear back on, leaving Jensen in the nude.

Jared was paying closer attention to Jensen going in for a kiss, so he didn't know Jensen would trail his left hand beneath his brief's elastic waist, side-swipe his throbbing cock, tease the scrotal sack to find his hole. It sure intensified their kissing, being played with down there.

Jensen broke away from Jared's mouth to intensely suck on index and middle fingers, then slip back under the stretched fabric to finger-fuck, while he played tonsil-hockey with Jared. Jared brought his hand out to tuck under, grabbing for his hidden cock, slow-stroking at each thrust Jensen's dual fingers sent his way.

It wasn't long before they stopped kissing; Jensen was mesmerized by every flex of Jared's arms, tendons and muscles pulling across the wide chest as Jared's hand picked up speed in each movement. As the orgasm built, and Jared bowed his body to cry out, Jensen yanked down the briefs to where

Jared could span his knees outward, allowing Jensen to dive for his balls, or his hole: Jensen chose to suck on the individual testicles, and then slowly torture Jared further to release as he pressed a thumb-pad to the perineum. Jared spurted come in every direction, in no time flat.

Jensen crawled over him again, but this time he simply rested his entire body on top of Jared, clock-watching until his alarm would go off. He tried to think back to their dual orgasm out on the balcony, but not for the reason one would think...he just couldn't remember which one of them had said “I love you” first, before coming.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **QUICK THANX :**  
>   
> 
> Yay!! I finally completed one of my fic challenges for the year (of 2014)...whew. And I could not have done it without these two lovely people...
> 
> and the AWE-sum Mod-skills displayed as this challenge was expertly run to the point of an Amnesty Day for July 1st, which was perfect for my procrastinatin' ass...God Bless this challenge...as I think it broke through my dry-spell...whoo-hoo!
> 
> And, I cannot be remiss in giving my whole heart and deep abiding love/respect to Nuria - - who stood by me, while I fretted and frayed at the edges, as **all** of our posting days grew closer and I had NOTHIN' but scraps to show for it. She stood by me...and she never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself. I just couldn't let HER, or myself down. And when Amnesty Day arose, I had MY DAMN POSTING DAY!!...and I did it... **so suck it, stupid *muse***...Nuria not only had me and MTB to do work for, but TWO FRIGGIN' 2014 BIG BANGs [ she always awesome = you should go check her first one out **[HERE](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/100806.html)**...and then check out her 2nd one, which will soon be **HERE** ] to do Artwork for, yet...jesus, man look at the gorgeous stuff throughout my fic--or go directly to her page where I linked above, because she kept blowing my mind and she never stopped, even when all seemed lost...hehe...but WE did it, and I couldn't be more proud of both of us...so, thank you, Nuria...and we do have to do this again, but, I promise...it'll be a little bit better the next time--WITH WERE/WOLVEs...much MUCH love, as always... **:O)**


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